#Lacrosse Shooting Shirts

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Can I request hcs for Jack with a sporty! Reader (Maybe volleyball or lacrosse)

Wow, your so COOL!!

Is your #1 cheerleader, hyping you up on the sideline as you spike the ball.

He's so silly even wearing your number, he was able to find a jersey like shirt and diy it to look like your jersey!!

Him and a few of your mutual friends even made a poster to wave when you score!

No matter what position in volleyball you play he's always says how cool it is!

Comes and watches you and your team practice sometime sit his classes are done or he doesn't have any that day.

Jack gets snacks and water for after practice if you forgot yours. need lots of nutrients for sports :D

Loves bragging that your his partner to people, it's so silly but he's so cute about it

Learns all of the rules and bc of this he calls bullshit if the ref does a bullshit one

Jack helps get any wraps you need for a ankle or knee injury bc those are most common. If you get joint pain he gets medicine for that.

If you'll let him he'll massage your back since he knows your lower back is in pain sometimes. Along with your shoulders bc your shooting your arms out to get the ball.

When you get hit with the ball hard Jack is trying to rush to get to you to check up on you.

Jack knows there's many thing you can do to make sure not to get hurt a lot. And you usually play more than one sport but he makes sure your not over working yourself.

If you play lacrosse a more contact sport he's scared of you getting seriously injured.

He flinches when he sees someone check you when you have the ball in your stick.

But cheers when you get a good check on the same person who hit you on the head.

Jack knows the lacrosse equipment is expensive so he tries to pitch in to help you get any new gear you need.

He tries his best to under stand the rules just like with Volleyball.

Loves watching team practice bc yall goof around and dog pile on someone sometimes.

Jack frowns when he sees the bruises on you after a game or practice. Grabbing the cream to help make them feel better.

He knows bc lacrosse is a contact and physical sport your going to get hurt a lot. Like sprains, strains, cuts, scrapes and even fractures

He makes sure just like volleyball you don't overwork yourself.

he'd love to have a sporty partner, might even try and practice with you. Be gently tough he doesn't play a lot of sports.

Jack loves seeing you have such a big smile when your team wins. Going to celebrate with a cake since your starving.

And is there sitting with you if you cry after a lost. Still getting the cake to help ease your sorrow.

In all Jack is a very supportive boyfriend who loves how your able to find a sport that helps express yourself.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Good Luck Babe!

by aforgottennymph Henry laughs, wiggling his fingers as he reaches for the bottle before taking a sip of his own, “Fine. Never have I ever…been walked in on during sex.” Alex shakes his head with a shudder, “I’ve walked in on too many people. Door stays locked.” “Wise man.” Alex taps his fingers against his chin, pursing his lips. His expression falters for a moment, eyes shooting over to glance at Henry before returning to stare out the window, “Never have I ever…had sex in a treehouse.” Neither of them drink. “Huh.” Alex says, eyes unreadable, “Do you want to?” Henry has made many mistakes in life - most notably allowing Pez to talk him into an ill-advised keg stand that made him vomit all over his shirt - but he can’t bring himself to regret sleeping with Alex Claremont Diaz, campus' most renowned player. Until Alex gets it into his head that he wants seconds, and Henry isn’t strong enough to not get feelings, so he does what he does best. He pushes him away. But Alex isn’t one to give up easily. Words: 10734, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Liam (Red White & Royal Blue) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Rizcriz Prompt (Red White & Royal Blue), treehouse sex, Frottage, Clothed Sex, Texting, Roommates, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - College/University, Lacrosse Player Alex Claremont-Diaz, Pining, Oblivious Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont-Diaz, Dry Humping via https://ift.tt/7Hz52Tp

[brook-e-lynns]

Bucky Barnes-Are you gonna be my girl? |Series|

summary: Chapter 2 | coffee date | the time has come for your coffee date with the handsome blue eyed Brunette that you keep running into, literally.

Warnings: fluff, language, sexual tension, Bucky being a gentleman and Bucky falling head over heels.

Minors DNI 18+

Note: I hate how this turned out but oh well also this one is short chapter just to get things going. Next one should have angst galore though!

Playlist // Main Masterlist // Masterlist

you rapidly shoot out of your bed jumping into you jeans, tripping over the legs. throwing your shirt over your head.

you had just slept through your alarm, which was a common occurrence for you and most of the time it was because you had something important, and this time it was a date.

The clock on your night stand had read 4:17 which gave you exactly thirteen minutes until Bucky would be at your door.

Wanda had left for classes early this morning and from your knowledge hasn’t come back.

its part of your Friday routine you go to class for an hour then you come back take a nap or work on note in your textbook, but today was a nap kind of day.

"shit, shit, shit" you yelp still trying to shove your legs into some jeans you had folded on top of your dresser at the foot of your bed.

you stare at yourself in the mirror debating if your outfit you had blindly chosen was okay for the ten minutes you had left.

figuring that since most of the time he has seen you sweating in a jersey and lacrosse shorts anything is better then that.

you frantically fix your hair letting some lose curls fall against your shoulders

You check your phone and your heart speeds up when you notice that Bucky should be coming any minute now.

the question of why you said yes ran through your head but now there is no going back.

As if he knows you’re thinking about him, you hear a knock on the door. After a final look in the mirror, you make your way over to the door. When you swing it open, Bucky is on the other side, his hands buried deep in his pockets Your chest tightens as his eyes flit over your figure.

You take a good look at him admiring his black Henley and dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs, His ever changing blue eyes trail up and down your body a smile tugging at his lips.

" wow" he breathes "you look gorgeous"

you let out a small laugh your cheeks turning a light pink as you blush at his compliment.

"you've been here for a minute and your already flattering me" you joked, he flashes you a cheeky grin knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

you had started walking to the café less then a block away from your living quarters it was quiet not wanting to speak and then run out of things to talk about by the time you get to the café.

which strangely wasn't awkward, you had both just enjoyed the cool Brooklyn air and the bright green trees that had led your path, both things that you hadn't had the time to bask in.

you had arrived to the café finding seats in front of the window inside the dark aesthetic and the smell of coffee filled your senses as Bucky pulled your seat out before sitting across from you.

" so why'd you say yes to this?" he asks out of the blue his eyes squinted a bit as he anticipated your answer.

" I guess I thought I'd give the blue eyed man who cant seem to stop 'running into me', a chance" you laugh as he smirks at your answer "why'd you ask me"

" I figured since I cant stop running into you id give it a shot" he responded with a similar answer to your causing you to let a smile slip through.

.

.

.

you had spent at least the past hour laughing and smiling at every comment the other had made, you hands wrap around the plastic cup of coffee heating up your hands from the warmth radiating through the cup.

"if you don't mind me asking, how are you still single?" he questions

" I guess every guy that I have ever gotten use to had always seen me as someone that would be some toy for them to use, why are you single, your a all star football player. I'm sure has girls piled at your feet?" you comment leaning back in your chair crossing you arms against your stomach.

" I guess the same as you, they think I'm just some fuckboy, or its because they want the title, but when I met you I guess you didn't look at me like I was a piece of meat" he smiled

he was opening up about his life, you've never been so deep in a conversation on a date like you were right know.

you slip a small hum.

.

.

.

he had walked you back home shortly after you had mentioned you had practice in the morning and he didn't want to keep you out all night.

your standing just outside of your dorm room door standing close to each other.

" well thank you for the lovely afternoon and your kindness" you admire him

" no problem, I'm glad you said yes"

you place you hand onto his cheek pulling him to you before pressing your soft pink lips against his scruff covered cheek.

"good night" you smile

" ill text you" he adds

" okay" you breathe slowly inching your door open from behind you not wanting to let your eyes leave his.

" good night" he finally says allowing you to slip into your dorm, pressing your back against the door letting out a sigh.

"oh my god" Wanda sang standing up from her bed.

you laugh slipping your shoes off.

" you didn't tell me you were going on a date with the body slammer!" She squeals throwing her hands in the air as if she was on a rollercoaster which she was, on a rollercoaster of emotions. “do you like him, is he sweet, or did he try getting in your pants” she floods

“ I guess you’ll never know!” You snark moving to change out of your suffocating tight pants.

“ no, y/n you can’t do that to me I’ll die if you don’t tell me!”

“ then lay down and die quietly” you declared gesturing to her bed.

She rolls her eyes sitting onto her bed.

“ I’m gonna get it out of you one way or another!” You snarls crossing her arms over her chest.

“ Whatever makes you feel better Wands” you slip out of you pants changing into some comfy shorts, you climb onto your bed crossing you legs with your laptop balancing on top of your thighs.

“ did you at least enjoy it enough to go on another date?” She questions you shoot her a look. “ fine, be that way I don’t want to know anyways” she pouts

You let out a laugh, “ if he asks then yes I’ll go” you respond.

She squeals throwing herself back against her pillows. " you like him" she says turning to her side facing you.

.

.

.

your phone buzzed on your nightstand the screen lighting up.

Bucky Barnes: our date last night was great, haven't been able to stop thinking about you"

you smile at your screen as you read the words across your screen, it stuck with you the rest of the day.

___________________________________________________________

feed back is greatly appreciated to help me improve!. I’m taking requests in any form of contact you have with me either through my asks or my DM’s!

Taglist : open | please comment on the series Masterlist if you would like to be added.

Taglist: @sebastiansleftkidney @hawsx3

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

Hello, can you do a smut when the reader joins the lacrosse team and completely overpowers Theo(pushes him into the ground)and he likes it. They probably go to the locker room after practice and do some naughty things….

pairing: theo raeken (18+) x fem!reader

warnings: smut → dom!reader, oral (male receiving), teasing.

word count: 533

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests are open🖤

request guidelines✨

🌻masterlist🌻

smut night masterlist 💦

Theo had managed to sneak away from the rest of the lacrosse team and into the girls’ changing room.

“Took you long enough,” you tease as you strip out of your jersey. You stand before him in only a bra and a fresh pair of leggings.

“I-um,” Theo stutters, catching sight of you. His jaw practically drops at how gorgeous you look — hair still damp from the shower, bra pushing up your breasts in a way that makes him want to suck them.

Striding over to him, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. He’s taken aback at your boldness, but that’s one of the things he’s grown to like very much about you. You push him against the lockers roughly, causing him to let out a groan.

“You’re very feisty out there,” he comments, feeling his cock begin to harden even more when you kiss down his neck.

“Good. Don’t want the other team thinking I’m not a threat, now do we?”

“no, ma’am,” the nickname slips out unexpectedly. You arch an eyebrow, slightly amused at it.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper in his ear. Theo moans as your breath runs down his neck.

“I want you,” he chokes out. That is all you need to drop down to your knees and push his pants down so they’re pooling at his ankles. He’s at a loss for words — partly because he’s so turned on at your dominance, both on the field and in this very moment, and partly because he’d imagine fucking you so many times, he’d never thought you would be the dominant type. He wanted you to be entirely at his mercy, but he also couldn’t complain.

Your lips wrap around his cock and suck his tip. He moans, hands gripping your hair tightly for his own security. The way you feel around him would be enough for his legs to go weak if it weren’t for being pushed up against the lockers.

You hum around him, wanting to tease him as much as possible.

“fuck, [y/n],” he moans, head tilting against the lockers. “just like that, fuck. Please don’t stop.”

Taking it a step further, you take all of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat so he can hit the back of it. He sucks in a harsh breath, eyes closed as he doesn’t want to look down. He knows if he does, he’ll cum at the sight of his cock buried deep in your mouth. Your tongue is flat against his vein as you bob your head.

“fuck, angel. If you keep doing that-“ he cuts himself off with a moan. “I’m so close. Gonna, fuck, [y/n], gonna cum.” His cum shoots down the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly. You pull away, pumping your hand up and down his cock to ride out his high. Theo’s chest is heaving as he pants, still in shock at what just happened.

“holy shit,” he finally breathes out. You stand up, wiping the corners of your mouth and shooting a wink at him. Turning on your heels, you put a fresh shirt on and sultrily walk past him.

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[usermischief]

♜Pairing: Briles ♜Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Brett Talbot ♜Warnings: - ♜Words: 1742 ♜Dialogue Prompt: “Of course, there’s only one bed.” (for @anon) ♜Mini Fic Roulette: 21/∞ / AO3 Link

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Motel Room Confessions

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Brett drops his bag on the ground, working his hands through his hair. “Fantastic.”

“What?”

“Of course, there’s only one bed.”

Stiles is about ready to throw himself out of the window, but they’re on the second floor. It’s probably not worth it at all. Still, the last thing he needs is sharing a fucking bed with Brett fucking Talbot, the hottest guy in Beacon Hills, and a werewolf, because there seems to be not a single goddamn human soul left in this hellhole. He can’t wait to get out of this town in a few months. He’s so close. So close. And so ready that he even agreed to attend a lacrosse tournament with his team he had zero interest in. The second Coach said it was outside Beacon County, Stiles signed up. Three days out of town? Yes, please. He did not expect to have to play, tho, but since Scott didn’t attend the tournament so he could spend the day with Allison, Stiles was suddenly high up on Coach’s list of players, informing him that he could see through Stiles’ bullshit. He had more fun than he thought he would, and they actually managed to win a few games. They didn’t win, not by a long shot, but they didn’t come in dead last — something that put Coach in a surprisingly good mood. One that lasted until they crossed the borders to Beacon County and not only their but also Devenford Prep’s bus broke down for some obscure reason.

The weekend was fun, so, of course, something had to ruin it. Having to share a bed with his unattainable werewolf crush on Valentine’s Day seems like a worse fate than his original plan; partying with Lydia and watching her get hit on by a bunch of attractive guys while he’s posing as her boyfriend whenever someone got too pushy.

“I’ll talk to the receptionist,” Brett mutters, turning on his heels, and walks past Stiles without even waiting for a reaction. Great. Like he hasn’t expected Brett doesn’t want to have anything to do with him. Now, he knows. That’s something he really could’ve passed up. But nope.

Stiles kicks the door shut behind him and collapses onto the bed, groaning into the blanket. How? Why? What is wrong with him? He either latches on to people who are unattainable for various reasons, or he just admits defeat and goes through pretending for months until Malia has crossed too many lines, ignoring his boundaries over and over again. Well, maybe that’s the very reason his heart latches onto people he knows he’s not having a shot with — because he has absolutely no idea how to break down the walls he’s built around him. Especially not after reinforcing them around Malia.

The door opens with a quiet quick. “They’re fully booked,” Brett informs him with a huff.

To be honest, Stiles wishes the news is in any way surprising for him. They’re not. After all, they are back in Beacon County. His luck has run out. He merely grunts as a response, not knowing what else to say.

“I didn’t even get a fucking second blanket,” Brett adds, sounding way too casual about this.

Stiles shoots up and scrambles around to look at the werewolf. “What?”

“If you hog the blanket, I will kick you out of the bed.” And with that, Brett yanks his shirt over his head before kicking off his shoes and getting out of his pants. Without any hesitation. Like he doesn’t care if Stiles sees him in just his boxer briefs. He probably doesn’t. He’s used to being naked around guys. He’s also hot as hell. And has more confidence in one finger than Stiles has in general. It is quite infuriating. “Also,” Brett adds when he finds Stiles hasn’t moved an inch, “I’m not sleeping next to you in your street clothes.”

“I—“ Stiles swallows, forcing himself to look anywhere but Brett’s dick because, fuck, those boxer briefs don’t leave anything to the imagination. “Right, yes. Sorry.” He clears his throat and gets to his feet, walking over to his own backpack to get his sweatpants and shirt. There’s no way in hell he’s going to sleep half-naked next to him. He’s never going to make it through the night anyway, and the number of close calls he had with Brett at the hostel they were staying in had been more than enough. He didn’t purposefully go shower every time Brett went. Actually, most of the time Brett suddenly appeared in the showers when he’s almost been done. It wasn’t any better. Lots of naked skin, lot and lots of tantalizing naked skin Stiles desperately tried to avoid.

Groaning, Stiles runs his hands over his face and shoves his street clothes into his backpack.

Brett huffs. “You sound like you got somewhere else to be.”

“I had plans.”

“With that coyote?”

Stiles turns around, furrowing his brows — and loses all train of thought as he spots Brett lying on the bed, no blanket, and propped up on his elbows. That should not be as hot as it is, but Stiles is so fucking gone on this guy even though they barely exchanged any words. They met like four times. He shouldn’t have this bad of a crush.

And yet.

Licking his lips, Brett quirks a brow. “Like what you see?”

Stiles blinks. “I broke up with Malia.” Shit. Shit shit shit.

“That,” Brett says, a smirk curling around his lips, “doesn’t answer my question.” He’s eying him as if he won a game Stiles hadn’t even known they were playing.

Arrogance, however, has never failed to snap Stiles out of his lovesick dazes. He curls his lips and scoffs. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“You coul—“ Brett stops and shakes his head, clearly amused about whatever he thought about saying. “Will you come to bed? I’m not gonna bite you.”

Stiles knows very well he can only waste so much time over here until it becomes embarrassing. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles pushes away from the table and crosses the room with his head held high. Well, mostly. In truth, he’s looking anywhere but Brett lying on the bed like a Greek fucking god. Staring a the ceiling as if he’s spotted something mildly inconvenient. A stupid idea, really. Something Stiles realizes the moment his left foot catches on something. He makes a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat, losing balance faster than a fawn walking for the first time. Flailing doesn’t do anything for him either.

The arm around his waist, however, does.

Before he knows it, Stiles is pressed against a hard chest. Oh, shit. “You know,” Brett whispers, running his lips of the shell of his ear, “I wish you weren’t as stubborn as you are clumsy.” Rude. Very rude, actually. “But at least you aren’t very subtle. Neither am I though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles asks, even though he very much knows what this means. Brett knows. He knows exactly how Stiles is feeling about him. This is horrible. This is, in fact, the worst thing that could’ve happened tonight. It would be quite wonderful if the ground just opened up beneath him, so he’d vanish into thin air. Not that he would fall very far considering the tight hold Brett had on him. His feet might dangle above the abyss for a second, but—

Wait.

Stiles cranes his neck to stare at Brett. “The buses.”

“The fact that it took you this long is astonishing,” Brett smirks, tapping a finger against his side. “I always kind of thought you’re some sort of genius.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Stiles elbows the werewolf in the rips, scowling a little. “This is Beacon Hills. I expected everything, but not you doing… something.” In fact, this is absolute insanity, and the more he thinks about it, the more bat-shit crazy it becomes. “Did you— what did you do to the buses? Why—“

“Because I could’ve stepped under the same shower as you, and you still wouldn’t have noticed—“

Stiles folds his arms over his chest. “Use your words, Talbot.” He’s one to talk. It’s not like Stiles tried to converse his feelings in any way. Then again, it’s Brett, and Brett is not only completely out of his league, but he also doesn’t date. At least if Liam and Mason are to be trusted. Stiles probably shouldn’t trust them. Mason used to have the worst crush on Brett, and Liam just straight up hates him. That’s a lot of mixed messages.

Brett opens his mouth then scowls. “I can talk my way into your pants. I don’t know how to do the… other things.”

Stiles blinks. “You mean dating?”

“The hand-holding, showing you off, and convincing you to meet my family type of shit.” Grinning all but innocently, Brett rubs the back of his neck. The guy is really out of his comfort zone because he wants to date him. He wants to date him.

Oh god.

“Wait—“ Stiles works his hand through his hair. “Wait, are you trying to ask me out?”

Brett makes a face. “I cut the fuel lines of our buses and got us a room with only one bed. What do you think?”

“You act like you haven’t been living in Beacon Hills for the past eighteen years.”

“Or maybe you’re just a little paranoid.”

Stiles quirks a brow. “You know, you should be a little nicer to the people you wanna date.”

Quirking a brow, Brett studies him for a few quiet seconds. Seconds that feel long and longer. The smile vanishes before returning in the form of a devilish smirk. Within seconds, Brett was back in control and Stiles finds himself trapped between the wall and Brett, smiling at him. “I can be very nice.” He places his hand on Stiles’ arm, trailing his pinkie down to his writs, the back of his hand until he intertwines their fingers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It certainly felt like it. “The nicest person you’ll ever meet.” Brett grins, pinning Stiles’ hand to the wall. “Want me to show you?”

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat, nodding slowly. “I’d love that.”

“Good,” Brett breathes, brushing their lips together. A simple touch that set Stiles’ whole body on fire. “Very good.”

Stiles cannot disagree with that.

[angelguk]

jock!jaykay is your favourite boy! yes, this a childhood bestie!au. jaykay is gym rat who likes invading ocs personal space and likes bullying his bestie for being small and weak unlike him. or alternatively the one where jeongguk realises his bestie has giant boobs. listen to best friend by rex orange county. roughly 2k words. this is brain spew. boobie ogling.

You love Jeongguk.

It's a natural thing to say; a platonic affection for him that has steadily grown over the past decade of your intertwined lives. But, you never expected to develop this level of affiliation towards him. It happened by mistake. He’d stumbled into you at the playground in the middle of recess during one lonesome afternoon. Soft brown curls a halo on his round head and his doe eyes sparkling as he mumbled a compliment at the sandcastle you were knee-deep in constructing. You’d taken one glance at the boy, noted how your stature towered over him and then immediately enlisted his assistance in completing the mammoth of the sandcastle you were creating. He’d lit up — bright like the burning sun behind his tiny figure —  jumping in with zero hesitation; small hands quick and sure as he stuffed sand into buckets. He never opposed any of your suggestions, considering them with a timid nod of his head and a tiny sheepish smile that revealed the delightful dips in his cheeks. It was beguiling, how quickly you grew attached to the smart but shy boy who’d wormed his way into your heart. Since then the two of you have been attached at the hip. Everyone knew you in relation to each other. Jeongguk wasn’t Jeongguk unless you were around and the same was for you. You’d spent sleepless nights at his house, huddling under the thick blankets of the fort you’d built in his living room, exchanging horror stories with the aid of a flashlight he’d nicked from his dad’s toolbox. Even his extended families adored you; random aunts and uncles sending cryptic messages via WhatsApp once every blue moon. And he knew yours too —  you’re certain that your mother likes Jeongguk more than she likes you. There was even a designated toothbrush for him perched on your bathroom counter, for days Jeongguk was too lazy to go back to his own home. It was wonderful, having that reassurance in your relationship, a steady rock that you clung to amidst the harsh wild seas of life.

And then puberty hit.

Suddenly, Jeongguk was taller than you. His jaw was more defined, shoulders broadening seemingly overnight. Your sleepovers vanished, Jeongguk preferring to hole himself in his room alone. He wasn’t the only one who felt the effects of your ageing. You never thought Jeongguk had noticed it, the way your body had subtly changed throughout your teenage years, the rapid blossoming of your chest because he always treated you the same. The shit-eating grin and snarky comments that appeared at the beginning of freshman year never subduing. That was until one day, he did notice.

“You stink,” you say. And it’s true. He’s just come from lacrosse practice, your bedroom door kicked wide open and his gym bag dumped on your floor. His smelly socks leak from the opened zipper, wafting through the room with dangerous intent. The smile he shoots in your direction grips your heart, digging deep enough to send a thrill through your system. You swallow hard, gaze ripping from his rosebud lips. It settles on your laptop screen with tangible resignation, the sudden spike in your heart rate not completely lost on you.

“Nice to see you too, bestie,” Jeongguk returns, eagerly padding over to your bed. You hold out a leg to his intruding figure, halting him in his steps. From here you can see the sheen of sweat clinging to his golden skin, the muscles in his arm defined beneath the loose fabric of his practise shirt. There’s a strange heat forming in your gut, and you have to take in a small breath before you can let your gaze falter on his. His honey eyes are warm, the glittering in his gaze drawing you close. Even the damp mussed hair on his head has arranged itself into perfectly defined curls. They tumble into his face, crowning him in an innocence that tugs at your heart. There’s an itch in your fingertips. You wonder whether you're allowed to tuck them aside, away from obscuring his pretty eyes.

“Do not come on my bed smelling like the pits of a sewer, Jeon Jeongguk.” You say that instead, settling your mouth into a firm scowl. He whines in relation, swift hands yanking at the hem of his shirt.

“I showered at school! I don’t smell that much — you’re being over dramatic.” Your mattress dips under the weight of his knee but the foot that smacks into his chest prevents him from crawling any further into your space.

“And yet I can still smell you — not my fault you can’t. You reek, Jeon. Go take another shower before you even think of lying on my sheets.” Your laptop wavers precariously on your lap when Jeongguk clasps his large hands around your calves, gently shoving your foot off his chest. You hadn’t discerned how… Big his hands had gotten.

The corresponding flutter you feel in your tummy the moment that realisation strikes feels like imminent death.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go shower.”  Jeongguk sighs like you’re the one causing him an inconvenience, shifting off your bed. Your mouth is already open, a retort tipping off your tongue. But then he’s hauling his sweat-drenched shirt over his head, the moment so swift and fluid you don’t even note how your heart halts in your chest. It starts a second later before abruptly falling into cardiac arrest because your gaze lands on his chiselled chest. You never truly registered how buff Jeongguk was. You knew he worked out, the insane regime he’d concocted the only thing he could talk about for months on end. Coach had him doing some insane sets at the gym and coupled with his weekly lacrosse practises it rapidly added up. You knew he was somewhat of a brawny guy. But Jeongguk preferred to wear his old baggy sweats around you and didn’t put much effort into his wardrobe for school. If it was black and clean it was going on. The look was effortless, simple and understated like Jeongguk was. So nothing could ever have prepared you for this. Hard lines of muscles forming his abdomen, flexing at the slightest movement as he tosses his shirt to the ground, a tiny ruffle of his curls accompanying the action. He’s glorious, warm skin glowing as if the sun is trapped within it. Perhaps you blink, blinded by the vision before you. An Adonis at the foot of your bed, shorts tugged low enough to reveal the band of his underwear. And, to make matters worse, the sharp-angled lines that direct your gaze right to his crotch.

You don’t think about it. You can’t. Another hard swallow hits your throat as you rise, arm outstretched to whack him hard across the head, the desire spurring in your guts short-circuiting your brain.

“Ow! What the hell was that for.” The pout he hits with you sends a wave of heat to your cheeks. You respond by landing a rough punch to his brawny shoulder.

“Why are you getting naked in my room?” Your voice sounds like an entity outside of your body, head still not comprehending the naked teenage boy in front of you.

“You told me to go shower!” Jeongguk retorts.

“Your house is a five-minute walk away! What made you think I meant in my house?” He catches the next punch you throw at him. There’s a thrill that surges fast when his large hands enclose around your wrists, grip taut. You tumble into his arms with a sharp tug, your chest colliding into his firm one.

“We used to share baths as kids. Why can’t I use your shower?” he murmurs. His voice is soft, wrapping around you promptly, like poison settling in your system. You abhor the tremor sweeps through you.

“Cause that was when we were kids! Look at you now! You’re all — all — all —,” your gaze falters downwards, hitting the rise of his pecs. It doesn’t take much for him to spot the heat that floods your face, a smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards.

“I’m all what?” Jeongguk implores. He flexes one of his pecs for good measure, a tiny laugh floating from his mouth when he spots how fast your eyes flicker from his chest.

“You’re a dickhead,” you retort, ripping your hands from his hold. Jeongguk lets you go, but when you glance up, there's a caution in his eyes that makes your skin prickle. “Go use your bathroom, you dingus. Come back when you don't smell like a garbage can.”

“But why,” Jeongguk whines. “Your bathroom is right there — like right there. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

“Get out of my house before I kick you in the balls, Guk.” For some reason, you poke at his chest, fingertip landing right between the dip of his defined pectoral muscles. His hand snatches yours before you can rip them away, head cocking to the side mischievously. You know you’ve fucked up the second that smile hits his lips, the grip on your hand a warning.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Jeon Jeongguk, you stupid bastard, you’ll end up infertile if I hit you the way I want to right now.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” He tenses his biceps on purpose, feigning a shiver at your empty threat. The quiver in your knees is betraying. “Like I couldn’t body slam you into this bed right now.” It’s like the light clicks in his head the moment the words drift from his tongue. You didn’t even get a chance to protest, a scream lodged in your throat as his arms swiftly enclosing around you, plucking you right off the bed as if you were a feather. He keeps you suspended for a moment, paying no heed to the pounding of your fists on his broad back, his shoulder digging right into your stomach before he flings you right back into the mattress.

“JEONGGUK!” If your laptop is broken you’re going to kill him. It’s as simple as that. He doesn’t give you time for recovery though, brain still whirring when his broad chest smacks into you. “Ow! What is wrong with you? Get off! Get off!”

The bastard giggles, smothering you under the weight of his bulky body, the mattress pressing hard into your back. You prod and pinch and punch until he grows tired of it, snatching up your wild fists with a quick hand. They hit the pillow over your head with a muted thud, arms stretched out as he shuffles over you. The movement has the material of his shorts bunching up at his crotch. You swear you don’t look, gaze shifting to the taut muscles of his stomach. But that’s worse, your thighs clamping together as heat blooms between them. You’re forced to settle on his face, a tiny whine escaping your lip as he traps you beneath him. But then you realise Jeongguk is not staring at your face, his honey eyes locked on the sway of your chest every time you squirm beneath him. You hadn’t thought about the shirt you’d yanked over your head when you’d gotten home today, picking it solely for the sun scorching outside. The heat had leaked into the house, warm enough for you to forgo one of your usual loose sweatshirts. But it’s a low cut, the rounds of your chest on display for all to see. Even when you lurch up, attempting to knee him in the groin, your chest bounces and his eyes follow, rose lips parted in thought. He catches your erratic leg with ease though, pinning you to the sheets effortlessly.

There’s a lot going on in your head, too much to sift through at the moment. But there’s no denying the fast flutter in your cunt, heat rippling through your nerves as you sit in a silence that feels suffocating. When bites his lip, you ignite. It feels like too much, too quick. A crack in the ice barrier between the two of you, the dam of unresolved emotions behind it threatening to break past and down you.

“Jeongguk…” You try, wafting through this sudden tension. He hums, a low sound that echoes deep inside of you. “What are you doing?” It’s innocent enough to allow the situation to dissipate, give the both of you a moment to gather yourself, sweep this under the rug and move on like it never happened.

He cocks his head instead, contemplating with a quick sneak of his tongue along his petal lips, still staring at your chest. “Uh, realising something.” He pauses like he doesn’t want to ask but question floats out like he can’t help himself. “When did your boobs get so huge?”

[hellisateenagewerewolf]

Wolf Moon Pt 2

Series Masterlist

Stiles Stilinski x Oc

Warnings : Adult language

Scott was riding his mountain bike through the school parking lot and he always jumps off just as he makes it to the bike rack in front of the school. While I’m stuck riding with Lydia Freakin Martin , okay so you might be thinking, How is she am I in her car ? It’s very complicated and a story that can be saved for later.

Lydia pulled up in our usual parking spot and quickly got out. Is really that bad to know me. Lydia fixed her outfit, ran her fingers through stupid red hair, it’s like every time she whips her hair a magical gust of wind just blows by. The sound of Lydia slapping her hand on the car roof and whispering to me “ Get out of her Stacy I don’t want you to attract those losers” breaking me out of my trance of hate Lydia Martin.

Rolling my eyes at her I ran over to Scott. Slowly creeping up behind him I tried to jump on his back but he turned around and smiled at me. Scrunching my eyebrows I asked him “ how did you know I was there” while pulling off his helmet and hanging it on the handlebars he answered me in a kinda sure voice “ I think it was the bite”. The bite.

Putting his head down he began adjusting his backpack with his lacrosse stick strapped to the back just as Jackson Whittemore, ‘the lacrosse god’, driving a silver Porsche, pulls into the parking spot next to him. Ignoring Jackson I turned my head back to Scott.

“My bite an—” I tried to explain but I was rudely interrupted by Jackson, the ‘Rich Prick’ slamming his door into me and Scott and shooting us a very dirty look. “ Dude, Watch the paint job”, Scott whips his head towards Jackson, glaring at him while I felt my blood pressure rise to a thousand and my head began to spin. What is going on with me, all night I’ve been getting heat flashes and I get really angry fast.

Before anything could really happen some random guy calls Jackson,“ Yo Jackson ! Let’s go bro”. Whiteout saying another word Jackson walks off but making sure he sends us another glare.

━━

“ Okay let’s see this thing” Scott lifts up his shirt to show stiles his bite wound, which he had covered with a gauze and tape. For some reason I could smell blood coming off of Scott’s gauze. “ Ooh!” Stiles jumped back from see Scott’s bite . “ Yeah” Scott exclaimed , stiles rolled his neck as he turned his head to me “ what” he raised his eyebrow and and began to poke Scott’s bite causing his to flinch away from stiles. “ why do you care” I asked tilting my hard towards stiles, “ frankly I don’t but if I don’t ask you’re gonna start acting like a dick”

Rolling my eyes I spat back at him “ suck my dick stiles” leaning toward me he began pushing my shoulder “ catch one Stacy”. I feel the pressure again and it’s getting stronger. My throat starts burning slightly as I lean towards stiles pushing him back “ guys stop arguing, can we get back to the problem at hand” Scott stepped between us so we wouldn’t rip each others throats out.

“ Stacy just show him” Scott pointed his hand to stiles. Nodding I began to pull my under shirt up showing him my gauze pad. “ whoa” pulling my shirt down I turned towards the school “ there’s a scratch too”, nodding his head stiles began to walk towards the school as Scott put his arm around my shoulder and continued our walk to school.

“ it was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a Wolf” agreeing with Scott I told stiles I think it was too “ A Wolf bit you ? ” stiles stated at us in disbelief. “ Yes stiles a Wolf bit us” Stiles shook his head while giving us a look as if we’re making this up. “ No, Not a Chance” confused I spoke up “ We Heard- a Wolf howling stupid” stiles scoffs and continued to shake his head “ no, you didn’t” this is making very frustrated “ what do mean, no I didn’t, how do you know what we heard” turning around and also causing us to stop stiles explained “ Because California doesn't have wolves, okay? Not in, like, sixty years.”

Surprised at what we just learned me and Scott looked to each other. Continuing to walk me and the boys stepped up the staircase, stiles leaned around to look at us “ Really” nodding his head stiles agrees “ Yes, really There are no wolves in California”. Stiles continued to talk to Scott but for some reason I just wanted to stare at him. The way his lips move when talks and eyes, god I wanna kiss him. Wait, what did I just say ?

Shaking my head I came back from zoning out. “ All right. Well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you Stacy found the body.” Weirdly stiles demeanor changes to excitement, he looks so fucking handsome, okay slow it down Stacy, I really need to go back to sleep. “ You-- are you kidding me?” Shaking his head Scott said “ No, man, I wish. I’m gonna have nightmares for a month” agreeing I nodded “ yeah, very time I close my eyes I still see it”

Placing his hand on my head scott ruffled my hair he gave me a reassuring smile. “ Oh, god, that is freakin' awesome. I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since—” losing his train of thought stiles watches Lydia Martin, my cousin and Queen bee of the school, walk past us and up the school stairs. Trying to catch her attention he yells “ —Since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia! You look—”, Not caring Lydia kept walking. “—Like you're gonna ignore me...”

Scott and I stood in the background, Scott was smiling while I felt like my heart was being pulled from my chest. Turning back to us Stiles like irritable, “ You guys are the cause of this, you know.” Rolling his eyes in response to that statement scott went “ uh-Huh” while I fought hat statement “ I’m literally awesome if anything you guys are the ones to blame” ignoring me stiles just kept running his mouth as if I wasn’t even next to him.

“ Draggin' me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlet-nerded by you guys ”

━━

Scott, Stiles, and I just took out seat in our first class, English. Our teacher Mr. Curtis immediately began out lecture. “ As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night.” Scott started to grin before looking towards me and then to stiles, who was in the row next to him and one seat behind him. Seeing him look stiles winked towards Scott.

“ And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk outlining this semester.” Picking up the syllabus I flipped throughout the pages, god why. Pulling out my purple notebook I place the syllabus inside.

Scott and stile look are at each other again, Looking over to them I raised my eyebrow. Nodding towards me Scott turned around and pat my hand, my seat is right in front of Stiles, meaning I’m sitting next to freaking Idiot .

Tracing the old scratches on my desk I heard a phone ring, lifting my head up I noticed no one looked around except for me and Scott. Confused I kept looking around, turning toward my left I heard a female voice, what’re was it coming from. Looking again I notice their was a girl outside on the bench, on the phone, digging through her back the girl put her phone between her ear and shoulder. How can I hear her ? does Scott hear her ?

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it.” He other must have responded because I heard a fuzzy noise. “ Everything except a pen. Oh, my God, I didn't actually forget a pen. Okay, okay. I gotta go. Love ya.” Hanging up the girl put her phone away. Scrunching my eyebrows I keep watching, “Sorry to keep you waiting. So you were saying San Francisco isn't where you grew up?”. I know that voice, it was the vice principal. Shaking her head the girl responded “ No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family.” Still confused and alarmed I looked to Scott who was also filling the girl, then she disappeared, I can hear her in the hallway “ Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while.”

Before I could guess where she was going, she stepped right into the classroom. The vice principal started introduce her “ Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” Looking nervous Allison, smiled before finding an open seat behind Scott. Sitting down awkwardly she smiled up toward me, nodding my head back, I saw Scott offer her a pin, surprised Allison smiled and thanks him, “ Thanks”.

Scott smiled back at her and quickly turned around. He’s blushing, feeling weird a scent hit me nose, it was coming from Scott. What was it ? Allison still looked confused.

Speaking loud Mr.Curtis started talking again. “We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis on page one-thirty-three”

I guess I was right Scott’s found someone.

What is going on ?

━━

After class everyone started to file into the hallway. Walking down to my locker, which is by Scott, I noticed he was staring down the hall. Looking dow I saw the one and only, Allison, her locker several meters down form us. Turning around Lydia sees Scott and smiles towards him. Before he can smile back, my cousin walks up to Allison

Closing my locker I close my eyes and try to find their voice. So far all I heard was voices over voices. Come on Stacy, “ That jacket is absolutely killer. Where'd you get it?” Responding like she was pressured Allison rushed out “ My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco.” Liking what she heard Lydia smiled “ And you are my new best friend.” Why couldn’t she accept me ?

Looking up I saw Jackson came from no where and wrapped his arms around Lydia. Jackson Lydia’s boyfriend, Lydia greets him warmly, Feeling on comfortable Allison smiles. “ Heyyy” looking up warmly Lydia greeted him “ Hey, Jackson”. Leaning up Lydia gave Jackson a kiss .

Having enough I turned back around to my friends. “ Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?”. When did she get here and why is Scott still watching Allison. Quickly responding stiles muttered out “ Because she's hot”, staring toward him Harley gives him a weird look, I don’t like her looking at him.

“ Beautiful people herd together” shrugged stiles. Was I not pretty? Still not listening Scott listened to Allison. Deciding it must be important of some sort I listened too. “ So, this weekend, there's a party”, she didn’t invite me. “ A party ?” Nervously Allison wondered if she should go.

Pushing her Jackson nodded “ Yeah, Friday night, You should come” bashfully Allison declined “ Uh, I can't. It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.” Not used to being told no Jackson and Lydia looked disappointed, it’s not that big of a deal, she doesn’t want to go then don’t force her.

On the side Harley and Stiles have stupid debate going on but I was Sri focused on Allison that I couldn’t her actual words. “You sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage” looking confused Allison pushed forward “You mean like football?” Laughing sarcastically Jackson denied “ Football's a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won the state championship for the past three years”

Lovingly Lydia smiled at Jackson while ruffling his stupid perfect hair. “Because of a certain team captain...”, please he’s only good cause my Scotty did get on the field yet. “Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don't have anywhere else—” trying to talk her way out Lydia cut Allison off “ Well, I was going to—” ignoring her Allison told her “ Perfect! You're coming”

Lydia grabbed Allison and drags her off toward the lacrosse field, before leaving Allison like towards Scott. Quickly turning to Scott I tapped his shoulder “ you okay bud, you look kinda funny” nodding Scott turned back around and closed his locker

━━

Sitting on the bench I looked on the field, the lacrosse team was gathered on the field. Where Scott and stiles ? Looking around I saw them quickly jogging, I wonder what their saying. Focusing i started listening “ But if you play, I'll have no one to talk to on the bench. Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?” Stile and exclaims clearly out of breath. Scott who seemed unfazed responded “ I can't sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines.” That’s right scott stand up for what you want.

Drooping his bag near the bench Scott looked towards stiles “ This season, I make first line” . Looking towards the bleachers Scott saw Lydia and Allison, waving my hand at him, he ignored me and smiled at Allison. Feeing left out i turned my head back to the field watching the other player warm up. “ McCall!” Yelled coach who might I say is right I front of Scott. “Yeah?”

Trying to listen I was to distracted my the scratch on my shoulder itching. It’s been like that since last night. Scratching it I looking back up to see Scott catching a lacrosse stick. “You're on goal” confused Scott frowned to the coach “ I've never played” nodding the coach looked at him “ I know-- scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first-day-back thing” smacking Scott’s shoulder the coach began to speak while shaking his hands “ Get 'em energized! Fired up!” . How dare he use Scott.

“ What about me?” Form the look on Scott’s face he knew something good wasn’t gonna happen. “ Try not to take any in the face”, smacking Scott’s cheek light before he walked off toward the field to start tryouts. I know Scott can play if he just gave him a chance.

“ Let's go! Come on!” Yelled coach, scratching again I turned to look at it but instead I saw Lydia starting at Scott like she never saw him before and then there’s Allison starting at him, tilting my head back to the field I smiled, someone has a crush. Looking down at stiles I saw him looking at me, staring into his eyes I smirked, nervously stiles eyes looked from my eyes to my shoulder and back to the field.

Filling his head I saw Scott tilt his head toward the bleachers, he’s listening. “ Who is that?” Jumping form suddenly her a voice I moved my hair form over my right ear and began to listen, it was Lydia and Allison. “ Him? I'm not sure who he is. Why?” Cocking my head confusingly I turned around to see Allison smiling “ He's in my English class” .

Turning my body half way around I spoke to Allison “ His names Scott, he’s my best friend” nodding Allison stuck her hand out “I’m Allison” slowly Taking her hand I nodded “ I’m Stacy” smiling awkwardly I turned back around towards the field smiling. Is She my friend now ?

Coach began blowing his whistle causing me to flinch and grab my ears, slowly bringing my head up I saw Scott flinch too. Suddenly a ball is thrown at Scott and it’s from the one and only asshole Jackson. Hitting Scott in his helmet with so much force he fell backwards onto the ground, everyone started to laugh at him. Angry I felt my throat start to rumble like I was growling, “ You okay Stacy” asked Allison, turning to her I nodded “ thanks, I’m fine” smiling at me she went back to the field.

“Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” , god I want to bite Jackson throat out. Seeing Scott stand up and roll his shoulders I knew he was armed and dangerous. The next player shot the ball and Scott caught it easily, visibly stunned Scott looked at the ball, excited the team, stiles, and I started to Cheer, and by that I mean I was screaming a t the top of my lungs. “ Yeah!!, Scott !!”

“ Yeah!!!” Yelled stiles. The next couple of shots Scott caught just as easy as the first. Shocked coach just stared at Scott with his mouth open. That’s right you better recognize. Everyone was smiling except for Jackson. Hearing Lydia and Allison talk I new they were impressed “ He seems like he's pretty good” , for once she’s not being a jerk, “ Yeah, very good” . Giddily Scott bounces on the balls of his feet and smiles.

Angry Jackson slams next to the player in line and walks to the front ready to take down Scott, nervous Scott got his stance ready. Tensely Scott whispers “ Oh, God”, knowing he can hear me I whispered “ you got this, show him who’s boss” smiling Scott loosened up a little.

Jackson runs as fast as he can toward the goal and tosses the ball with all the force he can muster, but to Scott, the ball seems to be moving in slow-motion, allowing him to catch it without hesitation. Stiles, Lydia, and I stood to our feet

“ YEAH!!!!”

“ WOOOO!”

“ THAT'S MY FRIEND!”

“ GO SCOTT, WOOO!!”

I knew Jackson was seething that Scott got one over on him. Seeing Jackson look at Lydia I turned my head to see her face, she was giving him the ‘ Is that all you've got?’ Face. Poor Jackson must suck to fade into defeat. Smirking I watched Scott throw the ball back at the assistant coach, who Hardly caught it .

Thats my best friend.

[a-is-for-abel]

"“I’m moving.” He froze, glancing up at his friend. The other boy’s eyes were gleaming with suppressed sobs, breath hitching and jaw clenched. “Mom got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

Inspired by this prompt by @givethispromptatry

Sand and shells crunched under the belly of the kayak as it ran aground. With a wobble and a curse he tumbled into the water, paddle floating away from him and kayak shooting off in the opposite direction.

"Fuck."

He scrambled to collect both, tossing the paddle up onto the beach and grabbing the handle at the bow of the kayak to tow it onto shore.

"You're late."

He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see Warren in all his cut-offs and sandals glory. "And you're early."

Warren crossed his arms. "I'm literally the most on time, dude."

"Whatever, just-- Help me grab the stuff."

He popped open the watertight chamber in front of the seat and reached into the belly of the kayak, all while Warren struggled to pull the backpack out from under the cage of bungee cords at the front.

"Just unhook them, dude," he said, his cellphone and two unopened cream sodas finally in hand.

"Don't tell me how to do it."

"It's not going to--"

"Shit!" Warren yelped, recoiling and clutching his hand.

"Told you."

Warren flicked him off, but turned to do what he said anyway.

"Come on, suns gonna start setting soon." He grabbed his backpack from Warren and stuffed the drinks and his phone inside.

"What? Afraid of some gators?"

"No," he said. "Rather a gator than my dad."

Warren grimaced. "He still got you on that curfew?"

"Yup."

He picked his way through the mangrove thicket that cut the beach off from the rest of the spoil island. The roots of the black mangroves jutted up like fingers through the sand and the stilts of the red mangroves tried their best to snag his feet as he ducked under the sprawling web of an orb weaver hidden in their midst. Thankfully, it cleared out past the initial wall of foliage, becoming more barren with only the occasional thicket.

He remembered when his dad had led them through here the first time and explained that the mangroves kept the spoil islands standing. That when hurricanes and storms threatened to wash them away, their roots would act like a little army, keeping off any barrage and harboring whatever took up shelter under them.

He frowned. His dad and him hadn't come out here since--

"Fuck, fuck, fu--" Warren sputtered behind him, high-pitched.

"Web?" he asked, glancing back to see Warren flinching away from a tree.

"Yeah, fuck--" Warren brushed his arms off frantically and patted at his hair. "Fucking spiders all over the fucking place, man. They call it Mosquito Lagoon, but it really should be spider god damn la-- Fuck!"

"Nice one, ‘spider god damn la-fuck’ really has a special sort of ring to it."

Warren shot him a glare and dusted off his shoulders and the front of his shirt with quick flicks. "You owe me for psychological damages..."

"Come on, we used to come out here all the time."

"When I was like ten! And with your dad!" Warren cowered away from another web that sprawled from a lone tree. "And I didn't have as much free real estate for a spider to like, you know-- Crawl all over me or whatever."

"Free real estate?"

"Yeah, you know the whole--" Warren gestured vaguely. "The meme."

"God, please stop," he groaned. "That shits like, what, twenty-seventeen? That's like ancient history, man."

"It's a classic."

"Sure," he muttered. "A classic."

"Whatever, man, you're just not cultured."

He scoffed. "That's definitely it."

The other end of the island unfolded into a drop-off, all coquina and shells packed tightly together and built up into a mound that cut off abruptly into nothing. It was the highest point of the island-- of most of the spoils out here honestly-- even though it's small cliff had been eaten away and eroded over time, shrinking and shifting as the island shrank with the waves.

Dropping his backpack, he sat and dangled his legs over the edge, shoes knocking back against the coquina with a scratchy rasp. Warren plopped down beside him, keeping his legs folded and away from the plunge. Not that it was much of a sheer cliff. Only about eight feet down at the most, but enough that it felt like a lot. Compared to the average of three feet below sea level for the rest of the mainland; eight feet felt pretty fucking huge.

The tide lapped at the base of the island, the water hissing and coiling, writhing and alive where it squirmed through the holes bored through the coquina face and back out with a soft crackle. Crabs, tiny and mottled, darted in and around the rocks and he could see finger mullet, their scales flashing as they turned and twisted with the waves.

"You tied up your kayak, right?" Warren asked.

"Naw, but it should be fine. I pulled it up pretty far."

"I'm not sharing if you get stuck out here."

He frowned, shooting Warren his best puppy dog eyes. "You'd leave me out here?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "Fair."

Seagulls drifted in lazy circles far overhead, the occasional cry working its way down to them as the birds banked with the wind, following the gusts up to where they could catch a glimpse of a meal beneath the water. One wheeled down in a sudden arc, wings folded close to its side as it plummeted, beak first, into the water with a snap and then back out with a spray.

"Man, tough luck..." Warren said. "Hate whenever they miss. Makes me feel kinda bad."

"They're just gonna go do what the rest do and steal some fries at the jetty once they realize it's easier than doing this."

"Yeah, but it's like-- I don't know, man. Just wish he'd get a win."

"You don't even know him!"

"I feel like we have a connection." Warren pointed at where the seagull had gone back to patrolling the waters. "Me and seagull number one thousand and three, we're like this--" He crossed his fingers.

"Shut up," he snorted.

They watched the seagull try again and fail.

Warren started up a running commentary after the third attempt, cupping a hand over his mouth to imitate the slight grain of a sports announcer's microphone as he dramatized the whole thing. When the seagull finally managed to snag a fish Warren cheered, arms thrown up in a touchdown motion that he copied with a grin.

"Hell yeah, dude!" Warren high-fived him.

"Where's all that enthusiasm for when you're at my games?" he asked.

"Come on, dude, you know I always cheer the loudest. You're just too far out on the field to hear me."

"I'm sure that's what it is."

"Whatever, man-- What'd you bring anyway?" Warren grabbed his backpack and began rummaging through it. "Oh shit! Gummy bears, dude! And the good kind, hell yeah!"

"Yeah, grabbed them before I came here. That's why I was late, idiot."

Warren tore open the package. "Crimes forgiven, man. This is worth it."

"Give me that--" He pulled his backpack out of Warren's lap. "I also got some soda, but I guess all you care about is your precious little bears."

"Naw, naw-- Hand that over."

"Rude much?"

"What? You want me to kiss you on the lips for it first, bro?"

He laughed. "Now, that would be the polite thing to do."

Warren puckered his lips at him and then snatched the soda. "Fuck off."

"Not even a little kiss?" he teased.

"You dragged me out to spider-fuck-nowhere, while it's ass fucking hot out and where it smells like rotting fish taint-- Just to watch the fucking sunset, when we could have sat on my roof and done the exact same thing-- You expect a kiss for that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Bro code."

Warren snorted. "Hand me a bottle opener, dip shit."

He popped open his own bottle and passed it over to Warren, who struggled for a moment before finally getting it with a triumphant 'whoop'. The mixture of saccharine flavored soda and the slight rotting stench of algae, and whatever else the lagoon had to offer, wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't terrible. It was familiar.

It was homely in it's off kilter sort of way.

"So, why'd you bring me out here anyways?" Warren asked.

He sighed and kicked his heel back against the coquina. "I’m moving.”

Warren sucked in sharply and he glanced over at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the water below his feet. "Dad got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

"Dude…"

"I didn't know how to tell you. I just--"

"Is that why you decided it'd be a good idea to sneak out and go to that dumb party with me?" Warren asked, frowning.

"I figured it would be one of the last chances I had to do something fun, you know. Here. Before I just-- Leave all this shit forever. I mean, we're moving to fucking Ohio, man. Where the fuck am I gonna find a party on an island out there?"

"Right…"

"And look, fuck my dad--"

"Jake--"

"No, fuck him-- He didn't even--" he huffed. "Things were looking up, man. Varsity lacrosse in sophomore year, that's huge, dude. And I wasn't just the fucking loser kid in the back of class anymore and he just--"

"Works rough here, dude..." Warren cut him off, sighing. "Space programs taking a shit. Whole island's taking a shit, really. Plenty of people left the first time NASA tanked, remember? It's just… it happens, man."

"So, you're just fine with it then?" he asked, brows furrowing. "We're never going-- I'm never going to see you again and you're just okay with that?"

"It's not forever!" Warren said, throwing out his hands. "There's planes, man! It's the twenty first fucking century. We got phones, dude. We'll stay in touch."

He grit his teeth and looked down.

"Jake, bro. C'mon-- Look at me."

He met Warren's eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, dude." Warren said, smile wide, and he could see the little falter at the edges, but he didn't call him on it. "Look--" Warren held up his bottle. "We'll cheers on it."

"Cheers on what?"

"To staying in touch, to meeting up in the future. To staying friends and all that, I don't know."

"To you finally getting a boyfriend?"

"Actually, you know what, I'm not going to miss you at all."

"Come on--" he grinned, nudging Warren with his shoulder. "You'll miss me."

"Yeah," Warren chuckled, looking down with a small smile. "I will..."

His fingers tightened around the glass bottle in his hand, bottom lip threatening to worry between his teeth. "Look, let's do your dumb cheers thing before it gets too sentimental or whatever."

Warren sighed, seeming to shake himself off before raising his soda bottle above his head and towards the slowly setting sun. "To us."

"To us?" He wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that kinda cheesy?"

"Just shut up and do it."

"Fine..." he grumbled with a grin, raising his bottle to clink against Warren's. "To us."

--

//photo credit// me and my phone c. 2020 //

[cuquitalocita]

the hot girl from physics class- rowaelin

AN: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and i just found it again. this is literally just self indulgent bickering with absolutely not plot in mind. also my first time writing rowaelin because i had no desire to butcher them so... anyway here’s to first tries and i hope you all enjoy!

main masterlist

~~

Rowan’s mouth tasted of metal.  Or maybe it was blood.  

The second thing that hit him was the inability to breathe through his mouth as he attempted to swallow a mouthful of nonexistent air.  The motion sent his eyes shooting open, immediately registering that while his mouth was covered, his nose was not, and he managed a large inhale of hot air before exploding into a rage of rough coughs that left him breathless and once again on the verge of blacking out.  Rowan thrashed in what seemed to be a chair, quickly realizing that both his arms and legs were bound tighter than he thought possible, and no amount of lacrosse training could prepare him for the fatigue he felt at that moment.  The dark spots in his vision didn’t seem to help either and his sweat shone skin seemed to melt in on itself as he took a few more breaths through his nose, slower this time until he was somewhat steady.  

It was only then he felt stable enough to figure out what the hell had happened.  The last thing he remembered was excusing himself to go to the bathroom before the bus was supposed to take off.  He had been walking down the empty hallway one moment and the last thing he could recall was the strange sensation of being as light as a feather before darkness overtook him.  And now he was here.  And… where was here exactly?

A sort of warehouse it seemed, with tall metal walls and a lofted ceiling, freezing regardless of the fact that it was barely fall meaning it was most likely abandoned.  Night shone through the glass windows he identified to his right and left and across from him sat-

“CELEANA?” Rowan attempted to scream out, his cloth-filled mouth muffling the sound to almost nothing.  But he was right, and his vision refused to fail him as his eyes widened at the hot girl from physics class who now sat across from him in a much more comfortable looking chair than his hard wooden one, sporting casual leggings, a stained t-shirt, an insanely messy bun, and the smuggest expression he had ever seen. Strands of golden hair sprang out every which way and Rowan was hit with the inherent desire to smooth it out himself. His heart did terrified somersaults as he took in her (clearly) laid back posture and bored eyes and he stiffened as Celeana pulled up one of her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, one of her hands clutching a small book.  It was only then he noticed the highlighter sticking out from between her teeth.  If he wasn’t gagged, he would’ve been gaping.  She was studying.  

“Well look who’s awake,” she mused, her voice somehow sounding deeper than it had before.  Rowan couldn’t deny how smooth it sounded and how naturally it suited her.  “Hey, sleeping beauty.”  There was no mistaking the smirk that curled onto her lips and the sparkle in her unique turquoise eyes as she gazed at him, her look solely calculating as she took him in from head to toe, zeroing in on something close to his head.  

The tip of the gun was colder than he imagined it would be, the hard metal sending a shock through his entire body and forcing a scream out of his mouth, damning the gag.  The sound was just as muffled as he thought it would be, barely loud enough to alert anyone within a four-foot radius to his whereabouts.  Still, he didn’t relent.  He screamed with everything.  He screamed with his anger, he screamed with his disgust, he screamed with his confusion, and he even screamed with his sadness, the emotion he hadn’t felt since his mother had died.

When the blonde had waltzed into his physics class for the first time two weeks ago sporting a bright grin and gleaming eyes, Rown hadn’t known what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the charming and positively addictive person he ended up meeting. Elegant and beautiful Rowan had been unable to tear his eyes away from her, even as she deliberately placed herself in the seat next to him, shooting him a brilliant smile. Celeana had been wholly consuming, something Rowan was now kicking himself for, and the two had fallen into an easy conversation, him unable to hold up his usually angry exterior when it came to her. They had flirted- quite a lot, if he remembered correctly and despite his constant lacrosse practices, Rowan had even found himself agreeing to help her with her physics homework. It had only taken one word from her cursing Einstein and Rowan knew he was done for. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her out yet- he had meant to do it after his game today. So what in hellas was he doing here?

Rowan screamed until his throat gave out, his wide eyes never faltering as he stared in what was pure shock at Celeana across from him, who seemed to be doing nothing but gazing at him, her eyes cold and calculating, a contrast to the small quirk at the corner of her lips.  By the time his throat gave out and his eyes yearned to drop shut in exhaustion, Celeana had closed her book and tucked the highlighter on top of her ear.  She wasn’t watching him anymore; instead, her gaze was fixed next to him, to the person who most certainly held the gun to his head.  A gun which Celeana seemed entirely unfazed by.  If anything, her eyes seemed to sparkle more and the other side of her mouth pulled up before she said,

“I win, pay up.”  A shift in sound and the gun behind him before a much deeper and older voice spoke now.

“Actually Miss, you said less than thirty minutes.  I said less than ten.  And it seems it was…” the gun was momentarily lifted from his head as the older man checked something on his arm, allowing him a sharp exhale.  “Seven minutes.  Which means, I won.”  The corner of Celeana’s mouth pulled down in a frown and she glared at the person behind him.

“Oh, you’re no fun Brullo,” she sighed.  “Fine.  I-” she was cut off as he commenced screaming again, louder this time after he had taken a lungful of air.  Her eyes widened for a smidge of a second in surprised shock which quickly faded into her smirk again.  When he finished screaming this time, it was because Celeana was looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze more powerful than should be possible for a girl her age.  And it told him everything he needed to know: he wasn’t going anywhere.  The sound fell from his voice and he glared fire at the girl across from him who only rolled her eyes when he attempted to open his mouth again. Her own fire blazed back at him. 

“Oh my god, are you done?” she asked in exasperation, the smirk no longer on her face, just pure teenage annoyance as she looked back at him.  He was at a loss for words as she put her book down on the ground next to her boots and looked back at him.  “Okay,” she said as if he was a wounded puppy she didn’t know how to approach.  She wasn’t afraid, just wary.  “I’m gonna take the gag off now and please, for the love of the gods, please Ro, don’t even try to scream.  With as much as I love your mouth, and believe me, I really do,” she gave him a wink and he let out a growl laced with disgust and ignoring the electricity in his blood at the look she gave him.  “I have no interest in hearing you any more than I have to today.  Got it?”

He said nothing, his glare unwavering as Celeana stood from her chair and approached him, the gun to his head tensing as if the bearer was more alert than he had been a moment ago.  Rowan wondered exactly how he was supposed to even move when his arms and legs were bound and just to prove it he went still as Celeana leaned forward, her blue eyes suddenly level with his as she reached towards the back of his head and untied the intricate knot in a quick movement of her hands. He attempted not to inhale her intoxicating scent- jasmine and lemon verbatim. She was back in her seat before Rowan could register the air on his mouth and he gulped down a few breaths as he looked at her again, unsurprised to find she was looking at him as well.  His heart did a relay in his chest as his green eyes met her blue ones and she arched a brow, smirking again.

“Like what you see?”  His answering glare said enough until the silence was too much.

“Who are you?” he growled and Celeana laughed coldly, either at him or something else, he didn’t know.  She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Rowan tried not to focus on it.

“You know who I am,” was all she said.  

“I thought you were Celeana but apparently I don’t know shit considering you kidnapped me and tied me to a chair.”  His voice was ice as he snapped at her and Rowan enforced his point by shaking his arms and legs and wincing at the pain.  Celeana’s gaze showed no sympathy or remorse for him and his heart sunk at the realization that he wasn’t surprised.  He had no idea who this girl was, he realized.  Celeana leaned back in her chair, her posture lazy once more, and began to mess with her nails.  It was only then that Rowan realized they were dark red underneath and he swallowed, his gaze snapping up to Celeana’s.  She followed his eyes with her own in a bemused way until realization struck her and her eyes widened.

“I- oh god, chill out, it’s just Taki dust,” she assured him, holding up a purple bag of spicy chips she pulled out from under the chair as evidence.  She let out a huff of a laugh and shoved the open bag at him in a questioning gesture.  She shoved one in her mouth before asking, “Want one?”  Her voice was almost as muffled as his had been and he glared at her, his eyebrows shooting up to remind her of his arms and legs.  “Fine,” she muttered.  “Have it your way.”  Celeana’s eyes shot up to the person behind Rowan as she dusted her fingers off and something flashed in her eyes before the light weight of the gun was removed from his temple.  He exhaled.

“What do you want from me?  My aunt will-”

“Spare me the family connections pretty boy, we’re not interested.  I will say this, it isn’t personal.”

“Why the hell should I believe anything you said when everything you’ve said so far has been a lie?” he snapped, attempting to find some sort of ground. 

“Well, that just isn’t true.  I really do suck at physics, Ro,” she said smiling, pointing to the book at her feet.  “Hawking is kicking my ass this year,” she grumbled and if she was anyone else he would have laughed.

“Don’t bullshit me, who the hell are you?”  Her eyes sparkled at his defiance and he stiffened as the man who had been holding the gun to his head padded up next to Celeana.  He was easily a foot and a half taller than her, making her look like nothing more than a tiny ant in comparison to him, and he had to be at least his aunt’s age.  But the muscle that quivered beneath his leather jacket was enough of a difference for Rowan.  Celeana’s grin grew.

“Are you gonna drop the ‘woe is me hero act’ any time soon?  I’m just curious as to whether I should get some popcorn or not,” was all she replied.

“Pretty gutsy coming from a girl holding an innocent person against his will,” he snapped back. Faster than he could have thought possible Celeana’s playful expression had shriveled into cold hard menace, the look sending a spineful of shivers down his back and forcing his heart into his throat.  Gone was the girl who enjoyed witty bantering.  In her place was the monster he had painted her as from the moment he had opened his eyes.  Rowan realized he should have taken laid-back Celeana when he had the chance because there was no doubt in his mind that the girl in front of him could and would end his life when given the chance.

Celeana’s posture stiffened and the hand that had been playing with her hair stilled as the man beside her placed a hand on her shoulder.  Whether it was meant to be a warning or a comfort, Rowan didn’t know.  Celeana’s face turned cold, her playful pretense officially vanishing.

She sneered and leaned forward on her elbows until they were almost nose to nose.  Rowan refused to shrink back as much as he wanted to.  The feeling coursing through his veins was unfamiliar to him: fear.  “You know something, prince?” she asked.  Her smirk was purely feral.  “I don’t like you very much.  And I’m not beyond beating your ass to prove it.  So shut up, and do what you’re told and you might live.”  With that, Celeana pushed her hands off of her knees and leaned back in her chair as if nothing had happened.

Rowan swallowed, knowing there was no point in hiding his fear of her.  It was so strong she could probably smell it on him.

“Why am I here?” he snarled.

“That isn’t your concern, and frankly I don’t feel like explaining it to you.”  

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

“Why would I, when you seem so hell-bent on hating me?” How could he explain to her that he wanted to, gods did he want to. And yet he could still feel his emotions attempting to fight him.  

“Who are you?”

“You tell me.  I think you know.  I think that pretty face is for more than just looks.”  He gulped at the realization that this wasn’t a dream.  He was really sitting in a warehouse, bound to a chair, while full-fledged members of the mafia stared at him. He really hated his aunt sometimes. 

“You don’t look like the rest of them.  You’re-”

“Prettier?  Smarter?  Wittier?  Tell me something I don’t know.” Celeana was picking at her nails again. 

“So what are you supposed to be?  Good cop?”  Her answering smile chilled his bones.

“Something like that.  It would help to tolerate me.”

“You try being friendly with the people holding you prisoner.” Celeana’s smile vanished. 

“You’d be surprised.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I’d tell you.”  Rowan was really wishing he had witty Celeana back because this one seemed to hate him just as much as he hated her.  “Now I really suggest shutting the hell up with the questions before that bullet ends up between those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“Miss, your uncle called.  He’ll be home at eight.”  A chill went down his spine as Celeana’s face went white.  He almost thought he was seeing things when something like fear flashed in her eyes for a moment before it was gone and replaced with her smirk again, this one which didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“Well,” Celeana said, grunting as she stood up and hauled her backpack and book over her shoulder.  “This has been fun, but I’m gonna have to leave you boys to it.”  Rowan knew something was wrong when she blew him a kiss, barely looking over her shoulder as she opened the door to the warehouse, pausing with one foot out.

Celeana turned back to him, the side of her face even more beautiful in the reflecting moonlight. As her eyes met his, Rowan felt pinned in place by the intensity in her own. 

“Aelin,” she said quietly.  “My name is Aelin. My mom used to call me Celeana when we would sneak out of the house together,” she paused before adding, “It wasn’t all a lie.”  With that, she silently slipped out the door, shutting it solidly behind her and leaving Celeana staring at the empty place where she had just been.

It wasn’t all a lie.

~~

drink your water :) 

[symphonic-scream]

Oh hey I've got more

Differences in the Jocks Kwami Swap AU

More from season 2!

Troublemaker

The moment has finally arrived

Really at the start not much is different, Penny is having trouble controlling everything that's happening around her, but I'm thinking I might swap what they have Jagged do-

I don't know for sure yet but I'm considering my options. Either way Penny gets pushed to the limit and gets akumatized

Chartreux and Crimson are fighting her as they normally would, while Kitsune is having a whole ass crisis cause her plans aren't working

She kinda collapses on a roof, watching the other two heroes do their thing all chaotic and remembers her motto, the advice she received and follows religiously;

"Life your life with no regrets"

And she starts to realize that the duo make tons of mistakes and never seem to get down on themselves despite how much they should regret their decisions

Kitsune realizes that she's been thinking about the advice the wrong way. It doesn't mean to do everything without flaw the first time, but to have fun and live in the moment, have fun and enjoying life for what it is

So she goes feral

Jocks style

Joins the fight and just follows the flow and in the end the new Jocks Trio are victorious

However, Fu isn't so pleased. He can't take back the miraculouses, but he has to stop this mess before it gets worse

So he and Wayzz go for a walk, and are saved by a certain classmate, who gets invited back for tea

Gigantitan

Ugh the baby

Episode starts with Max learning about the miraculous and Fu and stuff from Fu, who hands him the turtle and asks him to become the leader the team needs

Max isn't sure about the idea at first, because if he can't even keep Kim and Alix out of danger, how can he protect his fellow heroes?

He gets a pep talk and agrees

Meanwhile the class has gathered to scheme a way to get Adrien out of his schedule to hang out with them. They were all assigned secret roles and invited by a "mysterious mastermind"

It's just Kagami

Newly living her life her way, she comes up with something so ridiculous it might just work

Only it doesn't and the Gorilla is about to be akumatized but instead it's the baby

The trio transform to fight it only to receive messages on their devices from a "Shell Shock", which they promptly ignore

When the Turtle Hero does show up, he saves their asses and pulls them aside to tell them the plan and of course none of them are too pleased

However they go with it and they win. Shell Shock explains that he was chosen to be the team leader and the corespondent between them and the "Guardian" and tells Kitsune that he will message her through the magic system thing for when she's needed. Otherwise she is to stay away from the fight

Yeah she's not happy

Episode ends with Adrien joining the class for some hangout at the park after his next shoot was cancelled due to the akuma attack

Riposte

The day has finally arrived for Kagami to try out for the fencing academy in Paris and a lot is riding on her acceptance. If she fails to get in, her grandfather will have her and Tomoe moved back home again. She'll lose her newfound freedom, her friends, her secret identity

Still upset about essentially being called a sidekick, Kagami isn't ik the right mindset for fencing. She and Trixx have a little chat in the locker room before she puts her necklace and ring in her locker

Marinette, Alix, Kim, and Ivan (the last three having just stayed past their lacrosse practice) are there to cheer Kagami on and show their support

Kagami and Adrien are paired up to fight, but they don't have any mats to practice on because they're being cleaned. While they're fighting, Kagami steps on a wet part of the floor and slips, losing in the process

No one liked that

The instructor says that since she lost she can't join and says his decision is final when people mention how unfair he's being

Kagami just walks out, trying not to show how upset she is when she calls her mother to share the results. When asked to challenge the decision and do a rematch, she states that in her family there is no room for second chances and leaves

Then haha akuma time

Having not gone back to her locker, she doesn't have the fox miraculous so it's a normal akuma

Might change some things about Riposte not sure yet

Shell Shock messages Kitsune that they won't need her at the start of the fight but things get rough for a bit there, and he can't help but think that Mirage would have been useful then

The heroes end up winning, Kagami's mother tells her to "stop being stubborn" and to accept a fair second match, deciding to keep her loss a secret from her grandfather

For the final bit, Kagami gets her proper rematch, and kicks Adrien's ass. And with that, she's in the academy and gets to stay in Paris

She goes and puts on both her ring and the fox miraculous, apologizing to Trixx for what happened while they were apart

Befana

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARINETTE

The class is preparing a surprise party for her, everyone pitching in something to make it extra special

Some of the classmates discuss their gifts to her while preparing, Nino with his playlist for the party, Mylene with a plush from one of those animal charities, Alix with a collection of recipes and some spare fabric she got from her grandma all the way from Egypt

And Juleka with a CD of "background noise" music she and Luka made with Marinette in mind

As that's happening Gina (?) Shows up for her annual Nonna and Mari day, which Tom forgot about because of how excited he was for the surprise party idea

Rather than what happens in canon, Gina and Marinette take turns choosing a small activity to do together, just like every year. After a trip to some candy shop, Gina's about to have her final turn where she planned to give Marinette her gift

That's when Alya calls Marinette and claims that she's got a huge scoop and needs her trusty moderator to help her out

Marinette doesn't want to miss out on the little time she gets with her Nonna but Gina just insists she go cause it sounded important. She leaves after saying she'll see Marinette back home later

The Birthday Girl shows up to the surprise party and she's actually surprised this time cause she was so focused on picking the perfect activities for her and Gina that she didn't see the clues

Befana happens when Tom tells his mom that Marinette is at a birthday party and she gets mad that her own granddaughter felt the need to lie as if she wouldn't let her go to her own party if she asked

There's a bit of a detail about Marinette not even taking any of the candies with her, even though it's both of their favourite

I liked Befana's powers well enough, I thought that it was pretty cool. It's based on La Befana, who I believe is basically Italian Santa?? It's cool

The heroes struggle to sneak away while some of their classmates are turned to stone or into those weird angels, all while trying to keep Marinette safe

Shell Shock and Chartreux are the most successful, since Kagami and Kim are trying to protect the birthday girl

They do get a chance to transform and Shell Shock comes up with a complicated plan to stop the akuma

So obviously it gets screwed up at some point

Once the fight is done, Marinette tries to talk to Gina and explain everything, making it clear that she loves their days together

This is when Gina gives her the gift, er, gifts. First is a bag meant to allow Mari to bring some if her sewing stuff on the go

The second is a jacket just like Gina's, only it has the little blossoms from Marinette's shirt and shit, and announces that she's staying in Paris for a while longer, promising to take Marinette on a proper bike trip

Here's the next four episodes planned! I'm nearly done with season 3 now and I'm gonna wait to do another Differences post while I figure things out with 2 and 3 lmao

I hope y'all like my plans for these episodes, so let me know what you think! Suggestions, complaints, compliments, I'll take em all

[btxtreads]

Stuck on You

CHAPTER SIX: DOUBLE TAKE

↳ Pairing: Choi Soobin x Reader

↳ word count: 1.4k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: fluff, soobin is a nice boi but he’s v confused, yeonjun and y/n besties for life

Y/N released soft pants, wiping away the sweat dripping down her forehead as she pushed herself to keep running. Vaguely, he ears picked up a rushed pitter-patter of steps approaching before her eyes caught a bright head of pink hair and an attractive face smile at her from beside her. She cracked a small smile as she turned her head—pace still going.

“Jun, you’re not supposed to be here,” Y/N chuckled. “The male track is the other way.”

“Not like anyone cares.” Yeonjun huffed. “I have to run with my best girl.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, shaking her head in amusement.

“You just have something to say,” Y/N laughed. “And i’m pretty sure coach Jeon cares.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Before either of them could say anything, a shrill ring of a whistle pierced the air—causing the two to turn over to the man at the small stage in the middle of the field.

“Choi, the male track is that way!”

“No thanks, Jungkook!” Yeonjun called back.

Yeonjun then grasped Y/N’s arm and pulled her out of sight of the tall coach. At the man’s defeated sigh, Yeonjun cackled and cross his arms triumphantly. Y/N grinned, rolling her eyes as she wiped her forehead.

“What do you want, Jun?”

“Did you hear about Yunhee and Soobin?” He gasped dramatically.

“What about them?” Y/N asked with a chuckle, snatching Yeonjun’s water bottle out of his hands.

“They broke up.” Yeonjun whispered conspiratorically, making Y/N’s eyes widen a little.

“Really? Why?”

“Mhm, apparently he and Taehyun and Kai caught Yunhee making out with some guy from the other school’s lacrosse team when they went to a lacrosse party.” Yeonjun shrugged. “Anyway, we’re still going home together later, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the library while you finish up dance practice.”

“Good,” Yeonjun nodded, offering the girl his water bottle. “What movie do you want to watch for later tonight?”

Y/N scrunched her nose in thought.

“Maybe—“

There was a small cough and a pat of Y/N’s shoulder, making the her and Yeonjun look up at the newcomer. It was Choi Soobin, lacrosse team captain, who pursed his lips and smiled softly as he retracted his hands behind him. Y/N and Yeonjun exchanged a look before Y/N smiled over at the boy.

“Hey, Soobin.” Y/N said. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”

Yeonjun and Y/N exchanged another look before Yeonjun raised an eyebrow.

“You and Y/N?” He asked in surprise, tilting his head when Soobin nodded. “Well, okay then. I gotta get back to the male track anyways.”

“Jun, let’s watch Harry Potter later.” Y/N called to him as he jogged away, receiving a smile and a salute.

“See you at the library at 5!”

Y/N shook her head as she turned back to Soobin with a smile.

“So, what’s up?”

Soobin scratched the back of his neck, eyes flitting around the field as he fidgeted in place. He cleared his throat once more before looking back down at the girl with an awkward smile.

“Well, um, I just want to say I’m really flattered.” He mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “but I just—we’re not really that close and I just broke up with Yunhee, you know?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow, tilting her head.

“Uh, I’ve heard.” She nodded slowly. “Is something wrong?”

Soobin’s eyes widened, rapidly shaking his head as he burned red.

“Um, no! It’s just—“ He hesitated. “I’m—It’s really okay, but I’m really sorry. We can be friends, though!”

Y/N blinked in confusion, frowning as she looked around for Yeonjun or anyone else to get her out of the awkward conversation.

“Uh, I’m not sure I follow you, Soobin.” Y/N replied.

“I just—I’m sure you’re a great girl. No, I know you are.” Soobin said. “But, it’s all so fast, and I’m really still not over Yunhee, you know? And I—“

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Y/N cut the boy off, shaking her head. “Soobin, you’re not making any sense. What on earth are you talking about?”

Soobin furrowed his eyebrows, frowning as he blinked.

“Well,” Soobin said slowly. “I’m rejecting you. I’m sorry.”

“Okay?” Y/N blinked, appalled. “Cool, but um… I don’t like you, at least not like that. Where did this come from?”

Soobin was silent. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he dug through his backpack and pulled out a small envelope that seemed so familiar to the girl. He handed it over to her.

“You sent me this, right?”

Without taking the letter in her hands, Y/N gasped—letting her eyes take in the familiar envelope. Immediately, she felt lightheaded—her knees giving up on her as she collapsed on the floor, her hands supporting her as she fell to her knees.

“Woah, Y/N!” Soobin gasped as he kneeled down, hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I can’t date you!”

“Shut up.” Y/N groaned on the floor. “Oh my god.”

“Look, I’m really sorry we can’t date.”

Y/N looked over at the boy with an irritated glare.

“That was years ago—I don’t like you anymore!”

“But you sent me this yesterday…”

“I didn’t!” Y/N groaned back. “It was supposed to be in my room. I don’t like you!”

Soobin suddenly grinned, looking down at the envelope.

“Oh, well.” He sighed in relief. “That’s awesome. We’re okay, then!”

“Yeah.“ Y/N sighed.

She allowed Soobin to help her sit up with a smile, letting her eyes falling over to an approaching figure a couple of meters away. It was Beomgyu, his figure being swallowed by his hoodie as he walked over slowly.

“Well, I’m glad this is all a misunderstanding. I’m also flattered you liked little old me from 6th grade.” Soobin giggled.

Clutched tightly in Beomgyu’s hands was a dainty white envelope. Her envelope. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror.

“I hope we can be really great friends—“ Soobin said before Y/N leaped forward.

Soobin’s eyes widened as she pushed him to the floor, hands cupping his cheeks. She kissed him roughly, lips moving harshly on his. Soobin’s eyes were wide, hands frozen on her waist in shock. She pulled away a little, eyes flying up to see Beomgyu standing still in the middle of the field—eyes trained on them. Y/N looked back down at Soobin who was blinking in shock.

“Dude, kiss back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Soobin blinked as Y/N closed her eyes, leaning back down and kissing him desperately. Soobin released a confused noise from the back of his throat before sighing through his nose. He then closed his eyes and kissed her back, hands landing on her waist as he let his lips glide over hers smoothly. He tilted his head as she deepened the kiss. With a small breath, she pulled away once more, looking around to find Beomgyu gone.

Y/N sighed in relief as she finally backed away, pushing herself off of Soobin who blinked in shock from his spot. She helped him sit up as she sighed.

“Sorry.”

Soobin looked over at her, still in shock.

“Um, I—I want to be clear. I still can’t date you. I’m still rejecting you, I—“ Soobin sputtered, eyes trailing up as Yeonjun approached them with an amused smirk. “Um, I just kissed you because—why did I kiss you? I—Yunhee—“

“Yeah, yeah.” Y/N waved him off nonchalantly as her eyes still trailed around in search of Beomgyu. “She’s popular and pretty.”

“I—You’re pretty too, It’s just—“

“Anyway, thanks!” Y/N smiled awkwardly at him, shooting him finger guns as Yeonjun arrived, slowly pulling her away. “You’re a nice kisser, by the way!”

There was a snort, coming from Yeonjun as her successfully pulled her away. Soobin saw her clutch her hair in frustration as she stormed away, Yeonjun’s hand around her shoulder.

“Jun, what the fuck did I just do? Why did I day that?” Y/N hissed silently over at Yeonjun as the two of them looked back at the confused Soobin, still dazed on the floor.

“Yeah, what exactly happened?”

“I don’t fucking know either.” Y/N whispered back, groaning as Yeonjun snorted once more—directing her to a more secluded space.

Little did she know, things will never be the same again.

[writingsbychlo]

rapp-ed around your heart (01)

word count; 19,578

summary; stan and Irene have decided that mitch needs. a little downtime, and he’s pretty moody about it, until you put him in his place.

notes; this is the beginning of what is going to be a six part series, all based on the road. I really hope you guys like it, it’s about healing, and finding purpose.

warnings; none, really. mitch is moody, but what’s new?

The South East

“Whatever it is that you think I did, I am taking zero responsibility for it until you have proof.” Mitch announced his innocence loudly from the second he stepped into the office, and Hurley simply glared at him from where he was sitting on the other side of the desk, and he flopped himself down until the comfortable chair to wait for his latest bollocking over disobeying orders, being reckless, having an attitude, or whatever it was that he was about to be reamed for.

“That fact that you immediately have to defend yourself is a reason enough for me to be doubtful in your conduct, Agent Rapp.” He recognised that voice, rolling his eyes a little bit letting his lips flick up at the sides in amusement as the stoic face of his superior came into view via video chat, and Hurley leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Irene.” He nodded, eyes flicking between the pair, and brows shooting up as he waited. “So, why exactly am I here?”

“You’ve been working with us for almost three years now, and you’ve been working yourself hard since the incident in Ibiza, which would make it four years since you last gave yourself a break.” His heart clenched a little at the painful memories that flashed behind his eyes, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been, and he crossed his own arms, raising his shoulders and dropping them back down in a shrug.

“Your point?”

“The point is, Mitch, that we look after our agents. You are taking a break. A long one.” He let out a groan at the woman’s words, beginning to spew denial and complaints from the second he had processed the words, wiping a hand over his face and shaking his head in denial, but the slamming of an open palm down onto the table was enough to silence him as he looked up at Stan.

“Listen, this isn’t entirely altruistic. We aren’t sending you on a holiday to let you have fun in the sun in the Bahamas. You are going to wear yourself out, and one day you will fuck up in the field and that will cost lives of other agents, and a hell of a lot of civilians.” He huffed, glaring at his superiors in silence, and Stan smirked a little at finally getting him to shut up. “You don’t have anything to live for, Rapp.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Hurley held his hands up, and Irene rubbed her forehead with a sigh, mumbling under her breath about the subtlety of men. “What we mean, Mitch, is that you’ve spent so long throwing everything into work and revenge, that you don’t have anything anymore. Work is important to you, I get it, but it can’t be everything. You have to have something that motivates you, something that inspires you, makes you wake up in the morning, or else you aren’t fighting for anything.”

“What happened to ‘never let it get personal’, huh?” His words were pointed in sharp and bitter tone at Stan, a vicious stab at him for the tactic he’d once used to whip him into shape emotionally, and the older man didn’t even flinch.

“That was when you were unstable, but you’re one of our best agents now, and you train the recruits. When your anger was out of control, anything you latched onto becomes your primary focus, but now you have nothing to guide your direction or give you a purpose.” She sighed, and he slumped back into the chair a little bit.

“What, and you think two weeks in Europe is going to make me a new person?” He snorted at the thought, picturing himself in a striped shirt and a beret, with a curled moustache when he came back and an affection for pastries.

“Actually, you’re staying in the country. Start you up easy, and all.”

He wasn’t sure what to say anymore, and he didn’t see the point. Life felt drained of colour and entirely pointless, the only things that gave him joy were knowing that he was keeping others like him safe, people who hadn’t yet undergone the life-changing trauma he had getting a chance to skip over it and enjoy a life he didn’t get to have.

“My niece, she’s going on a little road trip. I talked to her, and she’s agreed to take you along with her.” Mitch was entirely unaware that Stan even had any family, but he dropped that in favour of searching his brain for an excuse not to go in a cramped car with a complete stranger, but he felt like he was short-circuiting, mind coming up a total blank as he was filled with white noise. The smirk Stan’s face was enough to piss him off even more, but he bit his tongue and waited to be dismissed, he could always come up with an excuse between now and then. “You’d better go and pack, she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Wait, what? And you didn’t think to tell me until now?” He seethed, standing in his seat, before watching between the two higher-ups who were staring him down for his outburst. “Can I be dismissed, or what?”

“Yeah, you can go, but you better be ready by the time she gets here.” He was already out the door before Stan had even finished speaking, the words being shouted after him as he left the door wide open, spite to make him stand up and close it himself, and he heard it slam shut only a second later. He enjoyed the easy recruits all but jumped out of his way in fear as he stormed across the courtyard, stomping up the outside stairs to the top floor of the dormitories, the floor that had been reserved for him and him only, the single perk of staying on to advise being getting to have his own space rent-free, even if it was a little small and cramped, with every little privacy from the group of people constantly moving through in the lower floors.

There was a bag under his bed, the one he usually used when being sent away on an assignment, and he dragged it out with his foot, dumping it on the bed. Opening up various drawers and cabinets, he shoved a collection of jeans and shorts, jumpers and t-shirts into a bag, enough clothes for about two weeks, and enough underwear and socks to match.

Laying out a fresh set of clothes for himself, he stripped off the ones he was currently wearing, dumping them into the laundry basket that he could throw into the washer before leaving, and have one of the interns clean up and leave outside his door for when he returned.

The water took a good minute or two to warm up, and so he busied himself with swiping his toiletries and cosmetics into the bag too, before stepping into the shower and letting out a low groan as the scalding water washed over his skin as he stepped under it. Dirt and grime washed away into the drain as he thought about the training he’d been taking part in during the day, cuts and grazes along his back stinging at the temperature, but washing away every ounce of blood and dirt, cleaning the wounds for him as he washed himself off.

His hair was washed too, until the water was running clean as his muscles had eased, the tension slipping away with every deep breath he took. Not only did he let the physical dirt drain away, but he allowed the water to take away the impurities he felt in his chest too, the way his angry moods and stubborn hatred for the idea of leaving were carried away into the drain.

The fear, however, that stuck around. The overwhelming anxiety that came just at the thought of not being busy. Mitch liked to work himself into the ground, he wanted to be sure that he woke up in the morning with things to get straight into, and he wanted to be so tired at the end of the night that he didn’t have time to lay awake in the dark.

It was no longer the flashes of Katrina on the beach that came up behind his eyes, that was a pain he had acknowledged and processed, breaking it down until he was able to move on, but he was haunted by a life he never got to live. When he was younger, he was such high aspirations, and he mounted for a future he would never get. He missed the thrill of playing lacrosse, or the excitement he got at the idea of experiencing something new, or the adrenaline rush from forcing himself to do something that gave him a little scare.

Everything felt numb now, like the world was in black and white, surrounding him with the buzzing of white noise as everything fell away into the background. It felt blurry, and out of focus, and he felt disassociated from his life, and so when the chance came around for him to fall right into that void and get lost in his insecurities, he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity.

When the water finally began to run cold, he switched it off, stepping out and towelling himself dry, before picking up his watch and checking the time. Fastening the device onto his wrist, he had just enough time to run through his laundry and grab a snack before leaving, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of the smoked ham and aged cheese sitting in the main fridge, a roll that he could place it within, and his mouth salivated a little in excitement. Tugging black jeans up his legs and a forest green henley over his head, he was grateful for how tidy his space already was, before grabbing at his favourite sneakers and tugging them onto his feet. It was a little cold for his liking, and so he swiped the first jacket he could from his closet, a slightly too big leather jacket with only one rip in it, that could easily be hidden if he didn’t stick his thumb through it, and it was enough for him.

He grabbed at the laundry bag, swinging it over his shoulder before peeking his head out of the door, and flagging down the first recruit he could find. Dropping the bag into his arms, he smirked as the man looked between it and himself, scurrying away seconds later with the strict instructions to wash it, dry it, fold it and leave it outside his door for when he came back.

He patted himself down, checking for keys wallet and his phone, doing a final sweep to check he had everything, before he was setting off, locking the apartment as he went. His first call was the kitchen, stopping in to make the sandwich he had promised himself, before taking a bite out of it and hiking his bag up onto his shoulder, and making his way back through the cabin.

Rounding the large property, he could see a vehicle already pulled up, a storage box on top that was open, and his supervisor was leaning against the back of the large car, a cigarette in his mouth as he listened to a woman just out of his view chat excitedly, but he could hear his voice as he made his way over. It was clearly one of the CIA vehicles, one he was so used to riding along in, and he momentarily wondered about how you’d gained permission for it, but the almost unnoticeable patched-up holes along the side and scratches told him that it was a decommissioned one that had seen better days before being shot at during field days.

The closer he got, the more he could see. Slightly shorter than he was, the girl was wearing a flowy dress and a cardigan, ankle boots covering her feet and sunglasses sitting up in her hair as she showed off a large map to her uncle, one that he didn’t care for, but he seemed to grab both of their attentions as he shuffled over to them.

“Rapp, just on time.” Stan broke, his voice already going colder just from interacting with him instead of the girl he called family, and Mitch simply rolled his eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Uncle Stan.” The girl was far too positive for his liking, especially while he was still angered over the entire situation, but he tried to be polite, shaking her hand when she offered it out to him, and gave him her name. She moved a little, trying to show him the large map as she attempted to redirect it so that he could see, and he dropped his bag to the floor, finishing his sandwich and sticking his hands into his pockets. “I got some places marked out, but is there anywhere in particular that you want to see, Mitch?”

“I couldn't care less where we go.” Your smile faltered a little, and he almost felt guilty for it, but you were shrugging him off only a second later, and he had to admit to himself that he was more than eager just to get on with this trip so that he could get it over with, the soon you both got on the road would be the sooner he could call this ridiculous holiday off, and the sooner he could come home and get back to his regularly scheduled timetable of running himself into the ground to avoid his thoughts.

Stan took the initiative to pick up his bag and place it in the open compartment above the car, before licking it shut tightly and double-checking it was all sealed up, before the older man was leaning down to press a fatherly kiss to the top of your head as you folded the map away. “You ready to go, Mitch?”

Your tone was a little cooler as you spoke to him, but still held no venom, and he simply nodded, making his way over to the passenger seat, all of the windows along the car blacked out, and he at least appreciated that privacy. Letting himself in, he stared right ahead, ignoring the scenery as he slumped into the plush leather and strapped himself in, crossing his arms and glaring at Stan as the man put out his cigarette and beaming sardonically at him from outside the windshield.

You were only seconds behind, hopping up into the vehicle with more pep than he thought possible, and getting yourself settled, before starting up the car, and dragging him away from the life he knew, on a ridiculous attempt to fix what he already knew to be broken, in his opinion, beyond repair.

It was an uncomfortable silence for at least an hour, only the humming you made along to the playlist that was ringing out softly within the car, your tapping at the steering wheel with your fingers to particularly catchy beats, and the attempts at small talk you’d given up on somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes into your journey. He was upset, and frustrated, and absolutely did not ‘want to play the number plate game’ with you.

Eventually, his curiosity took over, and he turned to face you, sighing a little for emphasis in what seemed more like a huff, and you glanced over at him from your place behind the wheel.

“So where exactly are we going first?”

“Oh! We are off to Fort Monroe!” You were still too peppy for his liking, and he hummed discontentedly under his breath, before nodding along and twisting to stare back out of the window, this time, looking dead ahead instead of to the side. He almost felt like a petulant teenager, slumped in his seat with a frown, arms crossed and being unnecessarily huffy, the same exact attitude he’d had all those years ago when his parents had sent him away to boarding school. “I was thinking we could go to the beach, maybe?”

He grunted at the thought, and you chuckled under your breath a little, glancing back in your mirrors and slowing for only a second to allow another driver to overtake you, before your attention was back on him.

“Not up for the beach? That’s cool. There’s a restaurant I kinda’ wanted to try, but we can do anything, really. I don’t have much of a plan for it. Just some ideas. I marked out some places around here that seemed cool.”

“A road trip of Virginia, how thrilling.” He rolled his eyes a little, his anger only bubbling up further at the cheery laugh you let out in response, looking over at him.

“I mean, I thought we’d start out easy for today. We’re already halfway through the day, it wasn’t worth getting anything big.” You shrugged, and he turned to look at you for only a second, cringing at the next song that came up, and he did not hesitate in lifting his finger to press skip on your phone as it sat in its stand on the dashboard. “We move down towards Florida over the next week or so, taking it in a slow build, getting to the road so much can be hard on your stomach, but the drives are divided up pretty nicely.”

“Florida?” You grinned, nodding at him, taking your eyes over the road for only a second. “How long is this road trip?”

You glanced over him curiously, your confusion at his statement melting away only a second later, before you were grinning in a way that made his stomach flip with nerves, unsure as to whether he actually wanted to know that answer. Instead of answering him, you reached over to the glove box with one hand, opening it up as the drawer fell open into his lap, and you fished through to find the old-fashioned and large paper map, slamming the storage compartment closed again and dropping the paper onto his legs. “Uncle Stan didn’t tell you the whole truth, did he?”

He grabbed at it, unfolding the large paper. He expected a zoomed-in version of the coast you were along, maybe a little more, but it was a map of the entire country, a red marker drawn along, lines connecting at least thirty dots along the way, and his jaw dropped, trying to add up in his head how long this trip would be, simply with driving and minimal stay time, and he realised he was looking at months of travel here.

“What the fuck?” You jumped a little at his outburst, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the paper before him. “This is one of those road trip things, right around the fuckin’ country! It’s going to cost a fortune in motels alone!”

You shook your head at him as he folded it down enough that it could sit flat, and you jabbed your thumb over your shoulder, causing him to turn and follow the motion with his sight. “We aren’t staying in that many motels.”

He almost felt stupid for how he’d missed it before, but the backseat was flattened down with a mattress laying over from the trunk to reaching almost all the way up to the seats, blankets and covers mixed with pillows, general amenities sitting around the edges, the largest portable phone charger Mitch had ever seen sitting on the floor, and he felt like the tiniest bit of hope he’d had toward this trip just flew out of the window, and at this point, he wasn’t even on control of the complaints that began to pour from his lips. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

“I found out this fucking morning that I have to traipse around the goddamn country with a fucking stranger, and now you’re telling me I have to sleep in the back of a car, doing shit I don’t want to do and sending my money in places I don’t want to go to, all for what? Nothing, that’s what.” He ran a hand over his face, a highly agitated noise leaving him. “Fuck this.”

You let out your own growl, the first sound of anything other than pure glee that you had released, the car jerking roughly as you spun off onto the side of the road, throwing the vehicle into park and turning to him. His eyes widened a little with the fire burning in your glare as you turned to look at him, sunny expression turned sour.

You weren’t willing to let him ruin your trip, this venture meant the world to you, you had been planning and saving up for more years than you could count.

“Listen, Rapp.” You hissed the name out at him, with more venom than even your uncle ever had, and he felt a little intimidated at the sudden rage that had spiked up within you. “This is my road trip. I planned it, I initiated it, I bought the car and saved for fuel, and did all the research. You think it was my dream to have a tag-along stranger jump on board? No. Especially not one with the general etiquette skills of a fucking pebble and the manners of an ex-con with a diagnosis in psychopathy and anti-social disorder.”

He opened his mouth to retort, feeling almost a little intimidated, shrinking back into his seat as you took a deep and steadying breath, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to reign yourself in, before you were looking at him again, before he could even think of anything to say in reply.

“Look, my uncle told me he wanted someone to come with me, someone who needed a little peace and quiet, and something to brighten up an otherwise dismal life. He told me about you, and I happened to think that this road trip would be just as good for you as it will be for me, so I said yes to you coming along. I’m not scared of my uncle, Mitch, and I’m not scared of Irene either. They aren’t my goddamn superiors, and I’m not letting you ruin this for me, so if you keep up this killjoy attitude then I will put you on a bus home, I don’t care where we are in the country. Got it?”

He gaped a little, before swallowing thickly, nodding his head, and letting himself acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up within him. Logically, he knew it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one that insisted he go on holiday, you weren’t the one that set him up with months of duty, and you certainly weren’t the one that had caused him a lifetime and a half’s worth of pain all crammed into the last decade, and yet he had been taking it out on you. Clearing his mind, he cleared his throat, mumbling an apology which you were quick to accept, before setting the car back off into motion.

It was awkward and tense, and he knew he’d already fucked it all up, and the two of you had barely been on the road for two hours, but he forced himself to relax a little, listening intently to the song playing, and relaxing in the seat. Uncrossing his arms and letting them sit in his lap instead, his head pressed into the rest behind his head, and he watched the scenery sliding by.

“So, that terrifying glare and scary, angry brow thing is genetics, then?”

You looked at him for only a second, easing up a little from your rigid pose, and laughed lightly under your breath, shrugging a single shoulder. “He taught me everything I know.”

He felt a little better at having broken the silence, and instead opted to open the map back up, studying the stops carefully, as you pulled off of the highway at the first sign guiding you towards ‘Fort Monroe’.

To say Virginia had been an uncomfortable situation of you both would be the understatement of the century. Small talk was fractured and strained, and you had no idea what you were supposed to talk to him about, and you had figured he was feeling the same way about you. Instead, you had busied yourself with mumbled about the different things you were seeing as you wandered around the Nation exhibit of Fort Monroe, and then moved on to dinner.

There was no longer the looming tension of the argument waiting to break out, and in his defence, you could see that he was at least trying to be better, but the pair of you hadn't exactly hit the ground running when you’d started out, and it was having a staggering impact on everything else that was going on for the pair of you.

He had opted to sleep upfront, leaning the passenger seat as far back as it could go, and accepting the blanket and pillow you’d offered him, shuffling every few minutes for almost an hour before he had finally settled in his seat, and you were grateful for the reprieve, before finally being able to fall asleep yourself.

Sleeping that first night seemed to hit that refresh button for you both, because when you woke up, he had already been awake, but he’d mumbled a ‘good morning’ to you when he heard you stirring, actually putting down his phone to turn around and look at you when you sat up. He had shown you the google maps version of the guide that he’d downloaded for you both, to add a little extra navigation, and inform you about roadblocks on your routes, and other such information that you may need.

After sorting yourself out, a change of clothes, and finding a rest stop to freshen up at, you were back on the road, a far more positive atmosphere shared between you both as you set off on the fairly short drive which covered the rest of the distance between where you’d stopped in Virginia, and making your way down towards North Carolina. Your first stop was Crabtree Falls, wanting to take a little break as you got yourselves used to the amount of driving you were going to be doing, and opting to check out the Museum of Natural Sciences to stretch your legs out and get a little bit of fresh air before you were on your way again.

When you arrived, it wasn’t overly busy, no crowds and queues and masses of tourists, and you were grateful for the reprieve, and the fountain of things to talk about with the man beside you so that conversation didn’t have to feel as forced.

The second you stepped inside, you were in awe, glancing up at the beautiful glass dome that the floors all circled around, balconies overlooking from the upper layers, and you took a minute to appreciate the ornate workings of the decorations that were up and about, before a nudge on your arm caught your attention.

Turning to look at the man beside you, his hands were tucked into his pocket, but his elbow was brushing yours, before he nodded his head stiffly towards one of the signs before you both. “They have live animals. Wanna’ check out the snakes?”

“Only if we can look at the big whale skeleton first.”

He nodded his head, the two of you gathering your tickets, and grabbing a map to guide yourself around, unfolding it before the both of you and pointing out the various things you wanted to check out. You did not take it in order, wandering from the top of the museum to the bottom, several times, neglecting to follow the numerical path that had been laid out, but choosing to simply follow the numbers of things you wanted to look at each time you got curious about someone else.

The uneasiness between you both had fallen away somewhere between the butterfly enclosure and the ‘Mountain Cove’ exhibit. The feeling that you were just waiting to blow up at him again the second he began acting out of line once again had faded away, and the borderline silence he had allowed you to suffer through when you’d first arrived had changed into small comments and subtle attempts at conversations that varied between the attractions you saw, all dependent on the sights you were seeing, and just how much it caught his attention, but you certainly weren't complaining.

By the time you’d left, you had a large plushie of a dinosaur under your arm, and a smile on your face, and Mitch seemed fractionally less tense than you had seen him since this trip had begun.

You had a simple dinner, the two of you simply choosing to get by on a drive-thru meal that you could eat as you began the trip down to Georgia, a truck stop in mind that you could use for stopping at, as well as sleeping and cleaning yourselves up some more. Your third day had a dismal start, one of your tires popping from a particularly rough pothole in the road, the impact giving you a headache from the jerk of the car before you’d pulled over to the side of the road, and hours had passed before someone had been out to change your spare tire.

You’d had to pull out the mattress and blankets from the back of the car, balancing it on the top of the vehicle to stop it getting dirty just to be able to get to your tools and more than half of the day had passed you by before you were getting back on the road again, your plans ruined and your mood on the floor, at least five hours worth of driving still ahead of you, and the day had been lost entirely by the time you’d been able to get everything back to the way it should be.

It was quiet as you drove along, nothing cheering you up as you stared out at the open roads, feeling dismal about what had already gone wrong in your trip, the entire outlook making it feel like this was going to be the prediction for the whole trip, and despite your best efforts to be positive, the bad day had put a downer on your mood.

“So, tell me what this playlist is about? Because there’s songs from the sixties, and songs that are on the radio now, all mixed in together, and I have yet to hear the same song twice.” You were a little startled at him initiating the conversation, and you could hear the strain in his voice at actively starting a conversation that had no particular end place in sight, but you realised he was doing it purely for the purpose of cheering you up, and so your lips flicked up at the sides as you glanced at him. “It just seems wildly random to me.”

“Well, a lot of different genres and moods went into it.” He raised a brow at you to continue, seeming genuinely interested in the explanation, and you let out a little laugh at the thought. “Well, firstly you have your typical road trip songs. You know the ones. ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’..”

“Yeah? How about ‘Mr. Blue Sky’, and ‘Road To Nowhere’?”

“Of course!” You were a little happier now, this interaction with him being far more positive than he had been so far, and you rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to relax as he hummed under his breath. “Then, there were just some of my favourites thrown in, like ‘Brandy’ by ‘Looking Glass’, and the ones that are just typical summer songs. ‘Shotgun’ and ‘Budapest’ by George Ezra, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He mocked, and you couldn't contain your grin as you looked over at him, that being the first piece of sarcasm that hadn't been a somewhat cruel jab towards you.

“Then, there are some of those songs that you can’t help but tap your feet and sing along to. You have to have a couple.” He sighed, muttered a ‘suppose so’, but there was no heat behind it, and quiet took over you both once again, the next song seeming to click into place as a way to end the conversation, and you cleared your throat a little, refocusing on the road. Maybe four more songs, five if you’d stopped paying attention at any point, had passed by before he spoke again, and you waited patiently as he formed his words.

“So.. there’s a random place on the map in Georgia, where are we going tomorrow?”

“There’s this little town called ‘Covington’, and I want to check it out.” He made a vague sound of confirmation, before he was pulling out his phone from his pocket a little awkwardly, and tapping his fingers at the keyboard on the screen, seeming to focus on whatever he was seeing for a good few minutes.

“It looks kinda’ boring. It’s just a regular town, I don’t see the big deal.”

“What, so you’ve never seen The Vampire Diaries?” You gasped falsely, and he clicked off his phone, shuffling a little in his seat and shaking his head, a motion you caught out of the corner of your eye.

“The what?”

“Oh, you need to add it to your list. It’s one of my favourite shows, and this is where it was filmed!” You were filled with enthusiasm just at the idea of getting to talk about it, and he huffed out in amusement at the idea of it.

“Vampires in Georgia, I thought it was supposed to be Transylvania? Isn’t it a bit too sunny in Georgia.” You felt your mind a little blown at how much there was to unpack in such a simple sentence, giggling as you sifted through your thoughts.

“First of all, it’s filmed in Georgia, but based in Virginia. There’s a lot you don’t know about modern vampires.” You had a falsely judgmental tone at his words, feeling your chest warm at the chuckle you managed to elicit from him.

“You’d better fill me on all this vampire shit before we get there, then. You only have a few hours, better get to it.”

Seeing the town in all its glory was the kind of experience that never could have been described to you, and if it had been, it would be nowhere near enough to amount to the way you felt. You weren’t sure how many photos you’d taken, your phone spending the majority of its time on the camera as you took a range of selfies and photos of everything you were seeing. You saw everything you possibly could, leaving Mitch to sit with a coffee in the gardens for an hour as you took the ‘Vampire Stalkers’ tour, before you’d wandered around Covington Square and pointed out different landmarks to him.

He had even offered to take a picture of you in front of the clock tower, and while he wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic photographer, you were grateful for the offer, because it had felt like an olive branch between you both. You had described scenes and painted pictures for hi as best you could, and despite knowing you were going a little overboard with your passion, he had glazed over a little, no longer responding but simply choosing to nod and hum occasionally, throwing in the kind of replies that were able to pass for any kind of agreement, and you had fizzled out soon after that.

Instead, you’d offered to show him the Mystic Grill, the restaurant catching his attention from the second food had been mentioned, and he perked up a little as he agreed. You took pictures in front of the signs, forcing him to get into a picture with you, and he scowled at the camera as you sat on either side of the neon sign, before getting yourselves inside and settled at a table.

It was exactly how you’d pictured it would be, rustic and peaceful, a country theme that seemed aged and well worn, but you adored it no matter what, and the menu only made you fall in love with the whole town a little more. By the time you’d made your way back to the car and found your next place to stop, changing into your pyjamas and taking turns to change for bed in privacy as the other watched the car, you had made a promise to yourself that you would be visiting again one day, no matter what.

You were settled in the back, and he was once again slouched in his passenger seat, but this time when you’d said goodnight, he made a tired sound of acknowledgement in response, instead of the usual icy silence, before rolling onto his other side and settling into his sleep.

Georgia marked a change in the dynamic between you both, nothing extreme, but the two of you had shifted from mildly irritated passengers to mere acquaintances, and the overwhelming feeling that you’d made a mistake by agreeing to take him on was washing away, to be replaced with indifferent emotions aimed to him, and hope for your journey. This trip meant the world yo you, and you couldn't deny that you’d struggled to fall asleep the last few nights as sadness and fear crept up on you that it was all going to be ruined if you couldn't enjoy a single moment of it without Mitch putting a negative fog down on every happy moment you had.

But, he was showing a change. He was trying, he was putting in the effort to at least not be the complete and utter twat you’d taken him for when you’d first met him, and the man who had done nothing but complain for two straight hours before you’d put him in his place was showing no signs of reemerging. As long as he kept his negativity and pessimism in check, then you could find it within yourself to simply enjoy your trip the way you would alone, as though his presence wasn’t going to be one to affect you, he was simply another presence on the road with you, like the SatNav or the music.

You spent a second day in Georgia, unable to have chosen between the Natural Science museum, the Aquarium, and the botanical gardens. It had been an earlier morning, and for the first time so far, you had woken up before Mitch had. He seemed equally as surprised, pleasantly enjoying the fact that for the first time in God knows how long that he’d slept in. No alarms, danger, or blaring horns for training. He didn’t have to be up to do sprints around the woods or an intensive workout that would leave his entire body screaming out in agony by the end of the day, only to have a full day forced upon him next time.

He voices such things to you in the streetside coffee and pastry shop that you’d stopped at for your brunch, after having a walk around the botanical gardens, something that had been more than soothing for the both of you.

The flowers, the sights, the ornate placements and decorations, with buzzing bees and butterflies, a beautiful eco-system that was preserved and protected within a society that often allowed nature to be turfed over for infrastructure, and it was one of the most beautiful sights that you had ever seen. You touched soft petals, and felt your face heat up when a butterfly had landed on your forehead, your eyes crossing as you tried to look at it and cheeks aching from your grin, and through every thought of his own, without being asked, Mitch had snapped a picture for you so that you could preserve the moment forever, and sent it to your phone only a second after it had flown away.

Filling up on warm pastries and taking a to-go cup of herbal iced tea with you as you chose to walk through the little town centre and window shop, before making your way to the aquarium, while he offered to take over on the driving from you, for the fair few hours drive down to one of the favourited sunny spots in Florida, before you had found the building, and all thoughts about anything other than seeing the pretty fish had slipped from the front of your mind. Only after the two of you had entered, paper band sealed around your wrists and told to follow the green arrows, did he divulge to you that he had never actually been to an aquarium before, a fact that made you positively outraged, in a way that made his lips flick up at the sides a little as he watched you dramatically mourn for his loss of fish observations.

You had taken your time, showing him everything and telling him just what you loved about the scenes, the way the lower tunnels lit up with blue as fish swam overhead, and the way the larger ones like stingrays and little sharks would come right up to the glass, getting you closer to the predators than you ever could be, and yet being entirely safe, as the rehabilitated animals continued with their life, enjoying the safety of their home. You allowed him to take pictures, and made him take one himself, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood in the middle of the tunnel that changed colours, the first one being his usual stoic and emotionless expression.

The second shot, though, was one that you sent to yourself just to be sure that it wouldn't be deleted from existence, because it was far too precious to lose. In the second, the tunnel was between blue and red, a deep purple shade with a pink edge was cast over the man, making shadows appear across his face, the look of awe standing out as he stared up, the largest shark they had swimming directly overhead in the picture as he stared up at it, and at that moment, there was nothing in his life, except the astonishment at the creature that had passed over him.

He thanked you when you handed him his phone back, nodding his thanks to you as he paused on the second, not bothering to spend too much time focusing it, but not deleting it either, closing his camera app and holding the phone tightly in his hand. He was more conversational for the rest of the trip, the photograph unlocking something within him, and he managed to ask you simple questions about why you liked museums so much, and if you liked zoos too, as well as reading the information plaques aloud each time you reached one. The night had rolled around sooner than you would have thought, and the two of you grabbed ice cream cones from a small cart nearby, eating them slowly as you walked towards the car.

“I always wanted to swim with dolphins, y’know.” He shrugged a little, taking a bite out of the mint ice cream on his cone, and you hummed as you licked at the simple chocolate one you had while considering your options.

“You’re only, like, twenty-five. You still have time to do cool things like swim with dolphins.”

He glanced over at you, pausing in his steps for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might open up, that he would reply to you, let you in a little bit so that you could try and find a way to help him heal, but he simply shrugged, and your hopes caved in on yourself, a little quiet falling between you both again as those walls that had been slowly crumbling down seemed to build back up to twice the height they had originally been, keeping you sealed out in the cold from ever getting know him. Once he had finished his ice cream, he was reaching around behind himself, rubbing at his lower back carefully, but his features never even changed, though it wasn’t the first time you’d picked up on it.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been messing with your back all day, trying to stretch all subtle-like.”

“Backache.” The word was grunted out, and you sighed a little at the cold tone he had resorted back to, feeling like for every step forward you took with him, you were taking three steps back.

“Well, for the past three nights you’ve been sleeping in a car seat. Why don’t you take it easy, lay down while I drive?” He shook his head as the two of you approached the vehicle, and you rounded to the driver’s side, leaning against the door and giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ve dealt with worse pains before.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to now.” It was a standoff between you both, and you reached out to place a hand on his arm, before deciding against his, swerving around him to tap on the tinted windows of the backseat. “Why don’t you lie down on the back, and I’ll drive. I’ll take it real slow, so you don’t get thrown about.”

“You’ll wake me up when we get there?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated at your assent for only a second, before he was dipping his head a little, and making his way around to the trunk of the car, allowing you to open it up with the car keys. Kicking off his shoes, he took them with him, his body flopping into the mound of cushions and pillows, and eyes already sliding shut the second he had, the door closing behind him as you got into the front. As promised, you drove slow, moving the pair of you down towards Florida, the night passing you by as you listened to your music so quietly that it wouldn't bother him, and in you slow pace, you were able to avoid disturbing him, the quiet tosses and turns he made causing you to glance back every so often.

Sometimes he was on the verge of being awake, blinking his eyes open a little in the darkness, to take in his surroundings, before adjusting his positions and laying back down. The darkness of the sky had been blossoming into pale pastel shades by the time you saw the entry signs for Orlando, and you could have cried with gratefulness as the journey came towards an end.

You were tired, having stopped once or twice to bolt into somewhere and grab a coffee, but you needed sleep, and as soon as the offer for such a thing had made itself known, you were more than happy to take it. The hotel felt like a godsend, the morning crawling on in as the sun rose up in early hours, the sun still a while off actually breaching the horizon, but the darkness of the sky was beginning to lighten at the horizon, and you were desperate to get some sleep.

You went to check in first, locking the car securely for the man, before registering a room with two beds for you both, opening the box atop the car to pull out your smaller bag, just enough clothes and provisions to get you through the morning until you were both awake again, before you were opening the back of the car once again. You weren’t sure how to wake him, perfectly aware of how jumpy he might be, and if he accidentally lashed out in shock, there would be a chance he wouldn't forgive himself for it, even if you told him it was okay.

Settling to place a hand on his ankle, you shook him gently, and while he awoke with a startled jump, he soon gathered where he was, letting out a little groan as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and shaking off his slumber.

“How long?”

“About seven hours.” His eyes widened a little as he looked at you, before shuffling forwards to swing his legs over the edge of the car, and he tied his shoes on a little as he took in the area around him. “I booked us in already, and got stuff, but I’m pretty tired, so I’m about ready to crash.”

He simply nodded, reaching out to take your bag from your shoulder and swinging it up onto his own, before grabbing the keys from your hand and locking up the car. The pair of you shuffled through the lobby, one groggy and one exhausted, before leaning against the walls of the elevator as you found your room. You simply dropped the bag on the floor, kicking off your shoes as he pulled the curtains closed, before sealing the door and crashing onto your separate beds.

It was a restless sleep, your mind not even dreaming as you refreshed yourself from the long day followed by a long drive, the time taking its toll on you, and you slept in later than breakfast and almost missed lunch, but you felt like a brand new person when you woke. You weren’t sore or achy, and the crabby mood you’d felt creeping up on yourself before the rest was washed away, and the excitement of knowing that you had the rest of today, plus at least two more days without any long drives was something you were more than excited for, and you stretched yourself out across the mattress, stretching out your limbs properly for what felt like the first time in years, before flopping back onto the bed with a cheerful smile.

The hours had ticked by, the sun rising high up in the sky and you were grateful for the thick curtains that were keeping out the rays out once the heat had begun to rise. It was hot, practically scorching, and you knew it would have woken you up - if not burned you - through the window had they been left open.

“Good afternoon.”

You jumped with a little squeal, completely forgetting where were and who with for one small and blissful moment, and you sat yourself up on the bed, embarrassment flushing you when snapped to sit up straight, and he snorted out a laugh that he muffled behind his hands when he watched you do so. His hair was still dripping wet, but he had changed his clothes, and the rest of your bags had been brought in from the car too. “Well, you’re in a good mood.”

“I slept well and went to the gym, of my own accord, with no interruptions. The last time that happened, I was a new college graduate.” His brightened expression faltered a little as he thought about the memories flashing behind his eyes, before he was stepping towards a covered dish on the counter. “I woke up a while ago, and I made it down in time for breakfast. I brought you some fruit and a croissant.”

“You’re like a whole new person today.”

He swallowed thickly, but quickly handed it over to you as you brushed messy bedhead hair away from your face and to take the dish from him, sitting cross-legged on the mattress as he settled on his own. “You did something nice for me, so I’m returning the favour.” You weren’t too sure how to reply, and you didn’t want him to ever feel obligated to you, but you did want him to be able to trust you with small and simple things, and so you were willing to let it slide, this time.

“I’m going to take it easy today, but you’re free to do whatever you want, take the car, or anything.” You waved a hand at him as you uncovered the bowl of freshly chopped fruit and a pastry, choosing to begin picking at the slices of apples and strawberries first.

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, some laundry, I only brought a couple of weeks worth of clothes, so when we get somewhere with laundry rooms, I’m going to take advantage. Wash the bedsheets, too, keep everything fresh and cosy.” You bit into the flaky treat, catching the crumbs first before they fell away into the bedding. “I also want to take a nice bath. A hot bath. Washing up at rest stations hasn’t been all that amazing.”

He chuckled, nodding his head a little instead, and mumbling an agreement to you for your statement. “I’ll hang around and help out. It’ll be good to have a day without having to do anything, we can get on with things tomorrow.”

You studied him for a second, the look shared between you both sparking something that almost felt like an understanding, like a bond of something other than hostility or impassive civilship, before offering him a genuine smile. “Wanna’ take all the washing down, and then watch a movie later?”

“Can I pick the film?”

You scowled at his bargain, but nodded, and he wore a victorious look, and you finished up your food, the rumbling in your stomach settling down as you found yourself satisfied. He sat with you while you ate, and the silence wasn’t exactly easy going but it wasn’t the same tension that made you squirm in your seat as you thought of anything to just break the silence or get away from.

He helped you strip down the sheets in the car, and fill your bag, carrying everything into the hotel and setting it all off in the laundry. You plugged the portable charger in to spark back up, and you had your bath, spending a long time soaking in the hot water and letting your fears slip away.

It wasn’t exactly the beginning you had hoped for, or the trip you had dreamed of for so long in your mind, but this was different. You didn’t mind company, in fact, when you thought about it, it was probably nice that you weren’t going to spend so long alone, and getting to share the experience with anyone as you travelled around the country was better than being lonely, but every time Mitch shut you out and built his walls back up when they crumbled even the tiniest amount mad you feel colder and more isolated than if you’d never had a companion with you on the journey at all.

He was an enigma, sometimes he seemed almost like he was happy to be there, and other time, you and the trip seemed to be the bane of his existence, and you couldn't place exactly what it was you were doing that made him open up each time, or what it was you did that made him lock right back up tight.

By the time you’d snuggled down into the bedding, he’d managed to set up the TV and somehow found Netflix, logging himself in as he scrolled the options, a bag of popcorn out on his chest that you really weren’t sure where it was from, but he nodded his head in the direction of the fresh stack of laundry ready to be taken out to the car, and you found your own bag sitting on top. Leaning across to swipe it from where it was, you were quick to rip it open, the salty-sweet smell of freshly buttered popcorn drifting up into the air.

He had somehow managed to find ‘The Vampire Diaries’, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked at you, lips twisted up in a smirk when he hit play, a blush flooding your cheeks as the opening scene came on, and as much as you adored the program, even you could admit that it was cheesy. You marathoned the episodes back to back, listening to his little commentary when he fell into his comfort zone a little more, and it wasn’t until late into the night that the two of you fell asleep, the ‘still watching?’ question still glaring on the screen when you stirred in the morning.

Your first full and energy-filled day in Orlando was bringing you a bouncy and peppy mood, that was surprisingly not shot down the second the man awoke, he simply groaned as he looked at you pulling open the curtains, before twisting to bury his head under his pillow and flipping you off.

“C’mon, Mitch, get up!” You sat on the edge of his bed, and he nudged his leg out in an attempt to push you from the mattress as he mumbled something indiscernible into the bedding. “I had an idea today for something that I think you’ll be into..”

Your voice was higher, almost singing the words out as you tried to tempt him, and he removed the pillow, huffing before turning to look at you, and while his face was entirely blank. You’d like to think you were able to understand the subtle twitches of his lips and eyebrows by now, and that he was a little less unreadable than he liked people to think, and so you were not perturbed by what may seem angry on the surface.

“I was thinking we could go to the Kennedy space centre for the day. It seems like something you’d want to do.” He sighed through his nose, but didn’t take his gaze away from your own, and you smiled a little, shuffling up the edge of the bed a little closer to him when he sat up in his pillows, wiping at his face and blinking into the morning light, yet to speak. “Was I right?”

He looked away, rolling his eyes a little, but a small smile twisted on his lips instead of the frown you’d been expected. “Yes.”

“Ha! I feel successful!” He snorted at your statement, using his knee to push you off the edge of the bed so that he could stand up, walking straight past you and into the bathroom, the door slamming shut before you had time to start telling him about all the cool things you’d read about online, but you didn’t care, because the two of you were already off to a good start, and you were determined to keep that same vibe going for the rest of the day.

Turned out he was taking a shower, a fact you discovered after lingering around for a good five minutes before he returned, and instead, you busied yourself with getting ready, the warmer weather of being sown somewhere with warmer temperatures, and you settled on wearing a lighter sundress, standing in front of the mirror in the room to braid your air when he finally emerged again. He had shaved, neatening up the messy scruff that had begun to grow out on his chin until it was in a more tidy scattering of hair along his jaw. One hand held the towel that was wrapped around his waist while the other grabbed at a pile of clothes, and you pointedly avoided looking at him in the reflection of the mirror as you focused on the movements of your fingers.

When he came back out, a black t-shirt that only reached halfway down his biceps, and sticking to him with bits of water, and a pair of blue jean shorts on his legs that brushed just above his knees, a jacket hanging over his arm for later in the night.

“Wow, you actually look like you’re on holiday, first time yet.” He rolled his eyes, dropping his head a little and running the towel over his head until it was merely damp instead of dripping wet. When he stood back up, strands were spiking up in random directions, the look of it making you laugh at the thought of it drying that way, and you tried to hide the noise, but he raised his brows at your snigger anyway. “Your hair is sticking up in all random directions.”

“Doesn’t matter, nobody cares, anyway.”

“Yeah, at the farm, maybe!” You stepped towards him, swinging your own plaited hair over your shoulder and out of your way. “When you’re all sweaty and covered in dirt after ten minutes, but you’re on your own time now. What if you want to take a picture and you look like you’ve been electrocuted?”

He simply sighed, but you could sense the amusement that washed over him as he caved, running a palm along the top of his head to try and push it flat, making it look like it had been badly gelled, and you placed your hands on your hips, biting on your lower lip to avoid the cringe you wanted to make at the sight.

“Can I just-” You took a little step forwards, and he hesitated, brows pulling together a little, and shoulders tensing up, but he gave you a single stiff nod and allowed you to enter his personal space. Reaching up a hand, you tried to style the slightly wet strands a little bit, quiffing them up just enough to look good while taming all the strays, and when you were appeased, you pulled your fingers away, humming to yourself with pride.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” You stepped away from him, moving across the room to grab your purse, and he was holding the door open by the time you were ready to go.

“I’ll drive. I’m feeling a lot better.” You fished through your bag for the keys, dropping them in his hand as you both reached the elevator, and in return, he handed you the room key to seal away in your bag.

“You think they have those big floppy hats anywhere? I want one.”

“What are you talking about?” He pushed the lobby button, leaning against the wall and pushing his hands into his pockets, before fixing you with a quizzical look when you turned to face him.

“You know, those big sun hats. That celebrities where so they don’t get recognised.”

He shook his head, fixing you with a heatless glare as he pursed his lips. “If you buy and wear one of those hats, I will go home and face your uncle’s wrath of my own accord. I am not being seen with you in one of those.” You gaped at him, before letting your chuckle best through, and he had the decency to grin a little to himself at his own jab.

“They’re stylish!”

“They’re hideous is what they are.”

He mumbled his response as the door dinged open, rebuking your insistence on the ‘staple fashion’ item as the bickering continued on, all the way through the parking lot until you reached the vehicle, and he held the door open for you as you climbed in, slamming it shut on your argument that if it was good enough for Sarah Jessica Parker in ‘Sex and the City’, then it was good enough for you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having any of it, ignoring you with a smirk as he started up the car, and cranking the music up so loud you winced, just to drown you out.

You took the hint, choosing to change the topic, hoping to keep him engaged in what was by far the longest conversation the two of you had participated in, in which he was actively talking with you in return. All of your conversations before this day had been mostly you talking to him, spilling every thought that passed over your mind just to stop the awkwardness from creeping back in, but today, he was chatting back. Whether it was playful arguments, subtle insults with no hostility behind them, or even just chit chat, he was taking an interest, and then, it felt like the two of you might be able to enjoy your trip, if it was anything like this.

From the second you had pulled up, he had been just as gentlemanly, and you swore you saw a flash of excitement pass over his eyes as the two of you bought your tickets, the key to unlocking him a little bit and tempting him out to being less than just a robot for the CIA may lie in his hobbies and interests, should you somehow be able to coerce him into acknowledging that he has some.

Your first stop had been to plan your visit, the two of you leaning over the touch screens as you read about each attraction, checking out a site map and trying to choose your way around. You had signed up for a bus tour, one that still had two hours until your allotted space, and so you busied yourself with the ‘Heroes and Legends’ exhibit, and the ‘Race to the Moon - Apollo Centre’, he had actually looked happy, willingly allowing you to take pictures for him in front of various things, and even standing beside you in a few as you forced him to take pictures with you when you found a good shot in front of the fountains and the rockets.

Sending them both off to your uncle as proof that you hadn't dropped him off at a bus station and fled, he soon replied, asking if you were sure that was really Mitch, or whether you’d just grabbed another shaggy and mood stray man along the road by mistake. He had let out a full-bellied laugh at the comment when you’d shown it to him, before tucking your phone back into your pocket.

The whole day seemed to fly by too fast, the bus tour crowding the two of you in, but neither of you had to drive so you were more than happy, and you had wrestled yourselves to the seats at the back, each of you by a window for maximum enjoyment of the experience, before you’d finished the day by reading everything you could, and exploring every miniature exhibit in the ‘Now and Next’ section, being completely awestruck by words you didn’t understand.

By the time you left, you both had a NASA themed jumper, as well as a shirt to send home for Stan, and a sticker decal to put onto your laptop, your purchases happily swinging by your side in a paper bag with the logo printed across the front as you made your way back to the hotel room.

The temperature had dropped a little, and you were in half a mind to get your jumper out and put it on, but you wanted to wash it first, unsure of how many people had already touched it before buying it. Your conundrum was brought to an end when warm fabric was draped over your shoulders anyway, his fingers brushing yours as he reached down to take the bag from your hold so that you could push your hands through the jacket he had given you.

His other hand was tucked in his pocket, eyes fixed ahead of himself as you walked the distance back to your car, but you nudged him with your elbow a little once it was wrapped around you and you were warm, giving him your friendliest and gentlest smile a little when he was forced to turn his sights on you.

“I think there might yet be hope for us to be friends, Rapp.”

“Lucky me.” He muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm, but he lifted his elbow from where it was folded against his body, allowing you to loop your own arm through his and move a little closer to him as you fell into step beside one another.

It was on your final day in Florida that everything seemed to go wrong, blowing up in your face for reasons that you didn’t even understand.

You were red in the face and entirely exasperated as the two of you stood in the carpark, your hands on your hips and his arms folded over his chest as you stared one another down. The air between you both was all but crackling with rage and unresolved anger, and you weren’t even sure where it was all coming from.

You didn’t exactly have the whole day, already having repacked the car and sorted out the sleeping zone in the back, just trying to decide what to do with the small handful of hours that you had to fill while it was too hot to begin a seven and a half-hour drive to Alabama for your next pitstop. He had no ideas what he wanted to do, absolutely none, saying he was just happy to do whatever, and so you’d suggested taking a trip to Daytona Beach, which seemed to be where his issue had started. Somehow, the simple suggestions had deteriorated into a row, people staring at you both as they walked past to get to their cars.

“We’re not going to the fucking beach!”

He was all but seething, and you wanted to stomp your foot like a petulant child in your frustration, but resisted the urge. “You’re not in charge here!”

“I don’t care, I’ve done all the stupid shit you wanted to do every other day!” You felt a little wounded at the insinuation, and you were sure that the hurt had flicked over your face because he seemed to flinch back a little bit at your change, before you stepped back, swallowing thickly and pressing the keys into his hand. He looked between the metal bundle in his palm and you, silence taking up between you both where raised voices had been only seconds before.

“Fine, you don’t have to go to the beach, but I am. Just drop me off and then go and do whatever you want to do for the day, and come back for me a few hours later.”

He gave you a look that made you want to scream, bursting out with rage, but you bit your tongue and resisted the urge. “What, do you expect me to just drop you off at a random beach and leave you there all day? Alone, when anything could happen?”

“Oh, relax. I won’t let Stan have your head if anything happens, you won’t get the blame for my mess.” It was his time to look a little hurt as you spat the words at him, before pulling open the passenger seat door, hopping up yourself and peering back at him. “Just take me to the beach, Mitch, I’ll be fine.”

He groaned, stomping around to his side of the car and making sure to slam the door extra-aggressively as he got in. This time when he turned the music up, it was to purposefully ensure neither of you would speak, and you fished through your bag to check that you had anything in order to busy yourself from the ruined atmosphere between you both. What had been so positive only a day ago felt like it had been shredded and burnt, and the everlasting anger that cooked you from within felt like it had been extinguished, only to come back as a raging inferno today.

When you finally saw the palm trees melt away into white sand and blue sea, you felt your nerves ease a little, relaxing into the car seat as he pulled up he car, fingers clenching the steering wheel, and you opened the door, hopping out and releasing a happy sigh at the smell of salt, fried food, and the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“Are you really doing this?”

“Yep. You can just pick me up in a few hours. Call me when you’re back at this spot, and I’ll come and meet you.” With that, you slammed the door on him, not looking back as you began your journey down toward one of the little beach huts and stalls to find a bathroom to change in, and somewhere to buy an ice cream. It took a minute before you heard the car pull away, and you were certain he’d spent that time cursing you out and muttering insults about you that only he could hear, but you didn't care, because you wanted to sunbathe, and so you were damn well going to.

With an ice pop in one hand, and your bag in the other, you wandered across the sand barefoot, shoes in your bag with your clothes and towel tucked under your arm, freshly shining with suncream and a swimsuit clad on your body as you wiggled your toes in the soft grains and searched for somewhere to set yourself up. A couple of stray beach umbrellas were still free, and so you were more than happy to claim one of them, making your way over as you wicked at the drips of juice escaping from the frozen treat, and dumping your things down into the sand gleefully.

Rolling out your towel under the shade, you straightened it out before turning and sitting down on it as you finished up the lolly in your hand and sealed the wooden stick into the front pouch of your bag to dispose of later. You replaced it with your sunglasses and your phone, sitting comfortably on the cotton and looking out around yourself at the people surrounding you, and snapping some photos of the beautiful sight that you could print off and frame when you eventually got home.

The flapping of another towel, spraying a little sand up onto your legs beside you made you turn to look, a pair of legs in your view as somebody came to sit beside you, and you squinted at the owner of said appendages as they sat down beside you. Your eyes widened a little bit as a recognisable mop of hair came into sight, and you pushed your glasses up onto the top of the head as he sat down, tugging his shirt up and over his head to discard of it to sit with the rest of his things, a pair of swimming trunks he absolutely wasn’t wearing before on his legs, and they seemed somewhat familiar to you.

“Did you just buy those?”

You reached out to poke at his thigh, the silky blue material shifting under your touch, and he granted at the feeling. “I didn’t own any.”

You merely nodded, waiting for him to expand, but he didn’t and so you placed your glasses back on and settled down onto your back, feeling a little better at not being alone, even if his mood was sour, but it wasn’t going to affect your experience, not even a little bit. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn't just leave you at the beach alone. It’s not safe.”

You turned your head to look at him, finding his legs stretched out before him, hands resting behind his body to support himself, and staring out with a distant look on his face as he watched the waves meet the shore, coming in all the way from the horizon. Something about the rasp in his voice and the tuned out look on his face made you feel a little guilty, and you popped yourself up on your elbows. “It’s just a beach, Mitch, I’ll be totally fine.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I was at a beach I got shot.” The realisation of his hatred of the location made a chilling coldness shoot along your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but he shrugged, giving you a glance out of the side of your eyes. “But, you want to go to the beach, and I don’t want to leave you, so we’re at the beach.”

You swallowed thickly, looking at him for a second, and watching as he took a deep and steadying breath. Sitting up a little more, you moved around the pole of the umbrella, perching yourself half on his towel and half in the sand, your thigh pressing to his as you seated yourself next to him. “Thank you.”

You whispered the words, but he turned to look at you, giving you a nod of the head as he watched you, whiskey brown eyes staring into your own as the tension between you both melted away. Rather than pushing your body away from his own, he shifted his arm to rest behind you back for support, before snapping his attention over to his bag. “I brought you something.”

“Yeah?”

“To say sorry for shouting at you. I’m not great at apologies, but I figured it would do the trick.” He produced a slightly crumpled but still pretty woven hat from his bag, and you laughed loudly at the sight as he reached up to push it down onto your head, the rim brushing his hair when you both settled back to look out at the ocean. The floppy hat on your head made you heart race the gesture making you warm up from the inside out. “I’m not going in the ocean.”

“That’s okay, you can stay with the stuff when I swim later.” He hummed under his breath, but twitched a little at the idea, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, reaching back across for your phone. “I’ll stay where you can see me, so you know nothing’s wrong.”

“Thank you.” You barely caught his response, and you weren’t sure what he was thanking you for; whether it was the simple act, the acknowledgement of his trauma, your forgiveness for his behaviour, or perhaps all three, but you just gave him a smile in response, the two of you finding a harmony one again as the waters of you friendship settled back out from the pebbles you’d thrown only a couple of hours prior.

He never moved from the towel, but he did watch you swim in the ocean, and he took pictures with you, and he looked after your stuff. He reminded you to reapply your sunscreen, and he laughed and joked with you after the two of you had moved on from the weight of your makeup conversation, and you decided that today had been even better than yesterday, because while you thought you’d been knocked down and your almost-friendship had ended, he had helped you up and confirmed that there was definitely hope between the two of you, there was a friendship forming.

After you had finished on the beach, you used one of the outdoor showers to wash yourself off of sand and salt, dipping back into a stall to change back into a simple sundress, treasuring the new hat on top of your head as he watched you, before you’d set off on enjoying the falling temperature before setting off on your journey. You had hotdogs for lunch, and walked along the pier, and even stopped in at some of the little gift shops, your arm linked with his as you went along, before finally getting to the car as the sun began to lower on the horizon, and the cool breeze was enough to make you shiver, the car no longer feeling like you were sitting inside an oven when you got in, but instead being a comfortable warmth to travel during the night in.

You weren’t too sure when it had happened, but you were certain that you had fallen asleep sometime after passing the signs for splitting off for ‘Lake City’, and you had woken up with a blanket tucked over your body that you were certain hadn't been there before. You stirred a little bit, a whine escaping you before you could stop it as you felt your muscles stretching and joints popping a little.

Mitch turned to look at you, his face neutral, a pleasant change to the scowl you were used to seeing, and the simple change had smoothed out the creases along the sides of his mouth, or the wrinkles on his forehead from the constant look of anger and irritation he had when he was at the farm with your uncle, and your hand itched with the urge to reach up and brush a finger over the place where the lines had once been.

“Sleep well?”

“I did, actually.” You snuggled down into the blanket a little more, muffling your yawn as you tried to shake yourself awake, despite the darkness still occupying the sky. “How long was I out? Do you want me to take over?”

“About four hours, there’s not long to go now. I was going to wake you soon anyway, I wanted to stop off for some coffee, and there’s a place up ahead. Is that okay?” You simply nodded in reply, and he returned it with a curt gesture of his own, before looking back to the open road, and reading at the signs that flashed by. You were more than happy to adjust into your morning, finding yourself taking a little longer to wake up than usual, because for the first time on this whole trip, you had felt truly comfortable in the presence of the man beside you.

No anxiety or anger was taking over, you were pushing down frustrations at his attitude and biting your tongue to stop from lashing out, but you were instead relaxed and happy, eyes fluttering a little as you tried to keep yourself away, rubbing at your eyes and sitting up a little straighter as the car began to slow down, pulling off onto a side-lane as the neon lights of a diner and truckstop just behind the trees made its presence well known to anyone travelling on the highway.

Finding a parking space was easy, one a decent distance away from everyone else, the car safe at the back as you hopped out, and you were begrudging to shed the blanket from your shoulder as the cooler air swept over you, arms wrapping around yourself instead. It wasn’t actually all that cold, but going from the coziness of sleep haze and blanket wrapped tenderness, to standing on your feet when you’re barely stable in the middle of a truck stop car park was a different story.

“Cold?”

The car flashed as it locked beside you, and you nodded a little, but forced yourself to peel your arms down from being wrapped around your body to sit at your sides. “I’ll be fine once we get inside, I was all snuggly under my blanket. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He offered you a flick of his lips in return, patting his pockets for his wallet and finding it in the front pocket of his hoodie, adding the car keys to it, before making his way over to you. Slinging an arm over your shoulders, you were curled in a little closer to his body, as he guided you across the lot, eyes peering around suspiciously as he took in everyone and everything he saw, from the placement of the car to the smokers standing outside and blowing clouds of smoke up into the air, his CIA training never letting up as he instinctively observed and memorised the area as best he could.

You were correct, the second you got inside the doors of the diner, warm air washed over you, and you let out a hum of contentment at the feeling, his arm dropping from around you as the two of you found a booth, settling in on opposite sides of it. You had a large mug of black coffee in your hands only minutes later, a large order of a breakfast meal at the all-hours kitchen felt like a god-send, and you blew the steam from the top of your mug as you watched Mitch stir creamer into his mug.

“So, can I ask a question?”

“I would love it if you did.” He rose a curious eyebrow at you, and you rose a single shoulder in a slightly embarrassed shrug, before taking a sip of the warm drink and letting out an inaudible moan into the drink, already feeling rejuvenated just from the first taste. “You don’t talk to me much, it would be nice to become more like friends on this trip instead of strangers.”

He ducked his head a little, and you worried you’d crossed a line, but when he looked up, he almost looked happy, and you brightened up yourself just at the sight. A smile from Mitch Rapp felt rare, but you were receiving one right now, and you were basking in the glory of it. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend. I’d really like that.”

“So, what was your question?”

“I wanted to know what the fuck we’re doing in Alabama.” His words were blunt, and you couldn't help the sharp laugh that left you, his eyes twinkling at the sight, before he was chugging almost half of the contents of his mug in one.

“It’s more of a stop off, really, to stretch our legs. Otherwise it was, like, a ten-hour drive, and I tried to split up most of the long drives as much as I could.” You shrugged, swilling your drink a little before taking another long sip of it. “I found this store that sells lost luggage, and you never know what kind of cool things we could find there. It’s like thrift shopping but even more obscure shit than thrift shops have.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We can get back on the road by later this evening, but I was also thinking we could stop somewhere and get a drink if we have time. There’s a bar that’s called ‘Rattlesnake Saloon’, I think, and it seemed fun. It’s only like a four-hour drive from where we’ll be down to New Orleans, so we can get it all done by the end of today.”

He agreed silently, and you took that as your queue to stop your internal monologue, the progress the two of you were making was too much to risk him backing out of if you overwhelmed him by talking non-stop just to fill the silence, but it seemed that he had different ideas; “How do I not know about you? I’ve been around for years, now.”

“I don’t come around so much. Uncle Stan comes to see me every Sunday for dinner, he updates me on everything, he just doesn’t like me hanging around over on your side, because if he’s off with trainees, he doesn’t really trust them not to get distracted.” It was a vague answer, but Mitch nodded like he understood, and made sure that he caught your eye as he tried to find his next words.

“For the record, if you did ever want to come around, I would like to see you.” He offered a smile, and you grinned into your mug, thanking the waitress as she placed down the meals before you both, cutlery soon following it, and your stomach rumbled slightly as the smell of the delicious plateful reached your senses. “So, when you say he updates you on everything, what kind of things do you know?”

“Oh, do you mean about the CIA black ops divisions, the Orion team specifically, or are you asking what I know about you?” His eyes widened a little, before he let out a deep breath, nodding his head with a small laugh that was masked by his sigh. “You’re surprised.”

“No, I’m relieved. I didn’t want to have to hide anything from you.”

You weren’t too sure how to reply, so instead you busied yourself with your hashbrown, the two of you falling into casual conversation between bites of food as you ate, opting to change the conversation to something a little more lighthearted, you were the main focus of the conversation, no matter how much you tried, you didn’t get through to him, he didn’t share much about his past, the things you didn’t know, but that was okay, because he was asking about you, and at least putting the effort in to get to know you. Another two cups of coffee were in your system before the sun was beginning to make its presence known, and the two of you decided that the rest of the journey was due to be completed. You took on the drive this time, and while you had insisted that it was okay for him to sleep, he opted against it, snoozing a little bit keeping up the conversation.

It seemed that the heavier weights of conversation had come crashing back over you both once you were back on the roads, dust kicking up behind you both as you continued on your adventure. The lost luggage shop was fun, the two of you seeming to shift through everything in that store, the hours passing far more quickly than you could control. You left with a pair of wireless and soundproof headphones, and a purple plaid jacket that Mitch said made you look like a lumberjack, and if it was three sizes too big and super baggy? Well, that was just even better.

He himself left with a new sports watch, his last having bee smashed by a recruit during a fight, and a pair of sunglasses with blue-tinted lenses that made him look like he was something from an intense spy film, the scowl and his body language only adding to it, and you couldn't help the picture you took as he did, showing it to him, and he’d quickly agreed with you.

As it turned out, despite how long you’d spent in the little store, you did have time for one drink at the bar you’d found, taking pictures of everything from the drinks to the cowboy style to the creative cliff top overhead, staring up at it in awe as you watched the nature from above grow over the top. You grabbed a quick bite to eat, to soak up any excess alcohol, before the two of you were on the road once again, with you excitedly singing along to the music as you drove, and Mitch poking fun at your driving, the light-hearted humour carrying you all the way along on the shorter drive towards Louisiana.

It was the asscrack of dawn by the time the two of you arrived in New Orleans, having swapped over on the driving a good two or three times, despite the tiny drive that it was in actuality, but you’d stopped a couple of times along the way at several little gift shops, and once to take a walk along the edge of a sweet little lake just outside of New Orleans, Lake Pontchartrain, the two of you watching as the sun came up over the water glittering across the slightly rippled surface, and you had found yourself once again tucked under the man’s arm, this tom daring to loop your own around his waist as you walked, and when you stopped, only detaching when you got back to the car for the final piece of the journey.

You had to admit, it was nice for you too, to be able to make a friend that understood everything about your life. A friend who understood that sometimes you would temporarily drop off the radar, and why you lived in the middle of nowhere, and why social media wasn’t exactly a big thing for you. It was nice to feel understood, and helping Mitch rediscover who he was was without the pain and suffering of his past and his job, was helping you to discover who you really were, and helping you work through some of your own issues.

You’d always been the most important thing in your uncle’s life and so he’d done his best at any given time to make sure you got everything out of life, but being so closed off from the world had made it difficult for you to get to know the social nuances of other people, and so you and Mitch were a learning experience for one another at the same time.

Your hotel was on Bourbon Street, because as you had so eloquently pointed out mid-yawn when he’d asked you ‘if you were serious’, you had confirmed that yes, you were very serious, because there was no what that you were going to come to New Orleans and not stay on Bourbon Street. You checked in and found your two beds, barrel even remembering to pull the curtains closed as you both made it through your nighttime routines, scrubbing at your teeth with minty toothpaste and changing into pyjamas, before crashing on your beds without another word other than some mumbled goodnights.

It was your alarm clock that woke both of you up, a shrill ringing that you’d forgotten you’d set and hadn't turned down, wanting to get up and have a shower before you got on with your day, and the sleepy man had glared at you from his bed, rolling over and face the wall as you snickered behind your hand. Sweet-scented shampoo and a very bubbly soap had refreshed you entirely, snapping you into your morning and giving you the wakeup call you had so desperately desired.

He was still in bed when you emerged, your clothes already on and simple skincare for the day completed, and your hair was still damp, but you weren’t willing to let the day slip away. “Mitch, get up!”

“No.” You barely heard him, before he was pulling the covers up and over his head as you yanked open the curtains, and he groaned out at the motion. You made your way over, standing on the edge of his bed and kicking at his legs from above, to which he promptly kicked back. “Go away, I thought this was supposed to be holiday hours.”

“It is a holiday! But I only have this room for two more nights, which means we only have three days in New Orleans, and I want to get some of the signature pastries from Café Du Monde before they sell out of the freshest batch!” You teased, and his messy bedhead poked up above the blankets.

“Pastries?”

“Freshly baked beignets.” You said, a sing-songy tone to your voice, and he sat up a little further, noticing that you’d caught his attention. “Little fried fritters, in powdered sugar. You can get coffee too, and fruits.”

He stared at you for a long minute, before seeming to crack, and he shook his head. “Fine, let me shower first, and I want a lie in tomorrow.”

“Deal!”

You watched him go, the bathroom door slamming at the water started up, and it took him about as long in the shower as it id for you to dry your hair, and the second he’d pulled on a change of clothes and prepared himself alongside you, he ruffled his hair dry on a towel, tipping it towards you for you to sort the strands, and he gave you a false glare for the giggle you let out at the action. Sifting your finger through his hair, you flattened them down into a reasonably decent smile, but not without making a comment about how he needed a haircut, to which he promptly shut down as he pushed you a little out of the way and headed to the door.

It was a short walk to the café, a warm breeze washing over your legs, even though it had barely reached midday yet, and as promised, you had been served the freshest of the pastries that the two of you could get, Two portions between you both, and several cups of coffee, you also split a fruit bowl, nibbling on the juicy treats as you chatted. You bought a box of the coffee to send to your uncle, taking it home forever as you collected it up, as well as a couple of the mugs that caught your eye, and Mitch had even purchased one for himself, brushing his finger over the lettering and the logo on the front as he purchased his first real souvenir of the trip.

Your next stop was the post office, the man shooting you a quizzical look as you went, browsing through boxes and shipping labels, before gathering up all the supplies that you needed.

“I figured we could box up and mail all out souvenirs and purchases back to my Uncle, and he can collect them up and keep them safe, so that they don’t all get lost or damaged in the car, and we don’t get overwhelmed.”

“If I send something back to be kept safe, your uncle will give it to the recruits to play soccer with before we get back.” He teased helping you carry all of the shipping items you’d purchased out of the door and back onto the street, the sun now shining down warm and clear from above.

“Send it all in my name. If we box it all up together, it gives me an excuse to see you once all this is finished, when we get home.” You spoke the words earnestly as you made your way back to the hotel, to spend the better part of a few hours wrapping, labelling and shipping it all, and he turned to look at you, face a little unreadable.

“You don’t need an excuse.” You were a little frozen once again, the lines between comradery and friendship between you both becoming blurred, but you still weren’t sure where you lay with it, and then his face split into a teasing look. “Unless I’m sick of you by then. I may have to hide when I hear you’re coming over.”

“Oh, shut it.” You jabbed your elbow at his side, his training making it easy for him to duck and swerve out of the way in time, which only resulted in a large grin taking place on his face. “By the end of all this, you’re going to be missing me like crazy. You’ll be calling and begging me to come and hang out with you.”

“Sure thing.”

You had just about made it in time for the post office, the woman a little perturbed at not being able to close up fifteen minutes early, but you’d left a healthy tip in the labelled jar beside the counter for her, knowing that the number of boxes labelled ‘delicate’ to all be shipped a good few states over was a hassle for her, but she completed it without complaint, and you couldn't have been more grateful.

It felt like a task taken off of your plate, leaving you both with a worry and stress-free evening to spend in New Orleans, quickly settling on getting the full experience, and going for a few drinks at a jazz and blues bar. Neither of you had to drive, and so you were able to indulge in a few more drinks than you had so far, your hotel only a short walk from the bar you’d chosen.

Bourbon Street by night was alive with energy, buzzing with excitement and thrill, and you could feel the atmosphere lifting you up onto their level, the idea of people getting to live here and experience it everyday making you prickle with a little jealousy, but you knew it was only as special to you now because you’d never experienced it before, that it was a rarity and something to be treasured, not envied.

The buildings were a mix of modern and ancient, still holding their beautiful French architectural designs with the balconies and the stylings of their decorations, but being lit up with neon signs that gave the entire road an ethereal kind of colourful glow. You felt pulled in every direction, not wanting to miss a single thing, and the pictures you took with the bright backdrop had been breathtaking. Blues and pinks and yellows, all glittering from signs above and around you, the kind of vibe that felt surreal while you experienced it, and made you wonder whether it was all just a dream when you thought about it later that night, laying in bed as your heart still raced.

New Orleans was beautiful, and your second day had only been more fun.

“I have a plan, Mitch!”

“You promised me a lie in!” He growled, and you took a seat on the floor beside his bed, placing your arms across the mattress and balancing your chin atop them, waiting for him to surface from the disturbance of the covers when you did so, a small giggle on your lips when you felt him shuffle, before glaring at you when his eyes finally met your own.

“I did give you a lie-in! It’s midday!”

He huffed, reaching out for his phone on the nightstand and almost smacking you in the head with it when he reached back, barely being able to duck in time, and from the look on his face, you couldn’t decide whether or not he'd done it on purpose. As though he hadn't believed you, his eyes widened as he checked the time to see that you weren’t lying to him, a few minutes fast twelve, officially making it the afternoon, and he groaned under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Do you want to sleep longer?”

He gave you a pointed look, as though to say ‘duh’ without actually speaking the words, and you offered him a small smile, ducking your head again when he shifted to put his phone back down, placing his head on his pillow and closing his eyes once again, shutting you out in silence. “Give me, like, another hour and a half.”

“That’s cool, I’ll come back and get you later, we can go for dinner!”

You shuffled away from the bed, backing away across the floor as you took your hands from the mattress, standing up again and brushing off your pants of the dust and dirt it had collected when you’d sat down. A hand locked around your wrist, honey-brown eyes peering up at you, narrowed and curious. “Where are you going?”

“I want to go and check out all the places they filmed any and all scenes that had a Mikaelson in.”

“Another TV show tour?” He mumbled, letting out a low breath as you nodded at him excitedly.

“I would almost be surprised that you hadn't seen ‘The Originals’, but you haven’t watched ‘The Vampire Diaries’ either, so I’ll let you off.” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, hugging his pillow a little closer to his chest, his cheek pressed into it.

“Vampires aren’t my thing. Plots always suck.”

“Woman don’t watch the shows for the pl-” You paused, looking at the cheeky flick of his lips as you gasped. “Did you just make a vampire pun?”

“Yep.”

“It’s like I’m meeting a whole new person.” His eyelids shifted a little, and you could’ve sworn he’d actually rolled his eyes at you with his eyes closed, which isn’t something you would have put past him.

“Give me another half an hour, then, and I’ll come with you.” He sighed, turning away from you and waving a hand at the curtains you’d opened as his face scrunched up, and you closed them once again, the fabric barely doing anything to hide the light in the room that was coming from the bright sun sitting high in the sky.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” He mumbled, and you nodded your head, taking a seat beside his legs on the end of his bed when he shifted them to the side and dragged the covers out of the way, letting you sit and wait for him as he snoozed a while longer, and you took the time to go through the list of places you wanted to visit. While you were well aware that not all of the filming was actually done in New Orleans, there were definitely a handful of places that you could see, and you were all but exploding with anticipation at the chance to do so. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

He sounded like he was barely present for the question, somewhere between this land and a dreamscape, but you turned to look at him anyway, despite knowing he wouldn't be looking back. “No plan, just figured we could go with the flow, or whatever.”

“We could go check out the ‘LaLaurie Mansion’, could be fun.” You gasped, staring at him in pure shock, and he cracked a smile at your reaction, stretching a little as he rolled over. “What, you’ve never seen American Horror Story?”

He was using your own words against you, pushing himself up to sit as he blinked into the light a little, and you shook your head to clear it, before grinning at him with a smile you didn’t even want to prevent. “Looks like you do know how to have fun, after all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you childishly, retracted his leg up the bad and you weren’t quick enough to move, being sent into a pile on the floor with a yelp as you were removed from the mattress, and he hummed in victory as you lay on the ground. He stepped over you a second later, looking at you on the floor with a smirk before swiping up some clothes and his toothbrush from the bag of his toiletries on the side, and switching on the cold tap to splash some water on his face.

You were practically pulling him out of the room ten minutes later, knowing that he was purposefully dragging out everything he did, changing his shirt three times just to make you wait, and with both hands on his forearm you’d dragged him all the way to the main door of the building before releasing him when he finally stopped dragging his feet and digging his heels in, laughing at your eager desperation to get on with the day as it approached one o’clock, and you still had things to do.

Tucking yourself under his arm to keep out of the way of others on the busy street, he adjusted you a little, his hand hanging over your shoulder as you pulled up the map on your phone for you both to see, covering your own eyes, as the sunglasses he’d purchased from the luggage shop in Alabama sat on his face.

“Thanks to someone changing his outfit like a diva, we lost a whole bunch of time.” You mumbled, his laugh rumbling up beside you.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“A whole bunch of time.” You nudged him in the side with your elbow, feeling him raise his hand from your shoulder temporarily to flick your ear, and you rubbed at it absentmindedly while looking at the directions on your phone. “Figured we could walk from here to the Lafayette Cemetery, it’s only an hour's walk, but our tour isn’t until five tonight, so we can take our time and check out other stuff while we go.”

“We’re taking a tour of a cemetery?”

“Yep!” He gave you a look like you were far too cheerful about the prospect of walking around a graveyard for a while, but you purposefully ignored looking at him. “First up, St. Louis Cathedral.”

You took photos in front of the beautiful building, the sun lighting up the exterior until it almost looked as though it was glowing, and it all seemed all the more natural that it did, a blessed appearance taking over your photos. You explored that end of the French Quarter in detail; visiting a Voodoo shop, even backtracking far enough to go to ‘Boutique Du Vampyre’, taking your time going around the store, checking out everything within the colourful and quaint little gift shop, the crowded building feeling out of place in the elegant and organised streets, like you’d stepped into an entirely new place when you’d walked through the door.

You listened to music and dropped change in the cases, cups and hates of almost every street performer you came across, and tried snacks from every street vendor you reached, sharing out the treats between you both as you made your way along, stopping at any and everything that caught either of your attention. You ended up with more photos than you’d expected, leaving you with a rapidly filling camera roll, hours worth of work when you finally got home and were able to sort through them all, printing off your favourites to build into a large photo album, ensuring that you’d never forget even a single moment of the trip.

After your tour of the cemetery, learning more than you thought there was a history to be had, and getting a chilling vibe all the way through, the two of you had settled on the Delachaise Wine Bar for your dinner, sampling different glasses and sharing them out as you filled up on french fries and bread rolls, before making the slow walk back to your hotel, seeing everything once again on you return, but this time by night.

The day had passed faster than you’d expected or hoped for, and yet, it was filled with priceless memories, the late hour making everything seem entirely new and different from the ay it had in the day, everything you passed seeming like a new building, signs lit up with glowing lights and the cheery and upbeat music from the day had taken on a lower and more sensual tone, changing with the mood as the early evening turned to night, seeing you off into your hotel with a smile on you face and a head full of thoughts that you’d never forget.

“So, I did a bit of research.” You started, and he turned to look at you, lowering his phone for a second from where he’d been taking photos, his attention now on you, waiting quietly for you to continue. “Turns out, that whole iconic witch’s walk in that one episode is outside of a restaurant and bar, and it’s only a few streets over. It’s called Vacherie Restaurant, and I made us a booking.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You were waiting with bated breath, hoping you’d made the right call, your suspicions being confirmed when his face cracked with a bright smile, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Much like he had spent the entire day with you yesterday exploring the sets and shooting locations of one of your favourite TV shows, you were now doing the same for him, the two of you wandering around the end of the French Quarter you hadn't yet gotten a chance to explore, taking in everything before you. Your first stop had, of course, been the LaLaurie Mansion he’d been so excited about, the man having been the one to wake you up this morning, pulling you from one end of the bed to almost falling out of it, hands on your ankles tugging you down the mattress until you’d been giggling and kicking at him as he dodged you, prompting you to get up so you could make the most of your third day.

It was only a short walk, the two of you grabbing to-go breakfast from a little café to eat as you walked, coffee and a breakfast burrito in your system waking you up considerably as you prepared yourself for the day. Neither of you had all that much of a plan, some quick googling as you walked had done wonders, however, guiding you through the already crowded streets as you made your way towards your various destinations.

Some were closer and some were further, the two of you working to create a list of your destinations, making your day a little easier to navigate. You were due to be on the road again by tonight, already having repacked the car and checked out of your hotel, but you were armament to spend as much time soaking up the sun and walking around as you could, before you were back on the road for a long drive up to Texas.

“So, when are we booked in?”

“I figured we could go for a late lunch, before we see the house they used for the academy, since it’s down in the Garden District, and we have to head that way anyway to get back on the main road.” He nodded, before he was reaching out to you a little, holding up his phone.

“Want to take a picture with me?”

You put your own away as you agreed to the request, his arm wrapping around you as he held up the device away from you both, positioning you to be able to see the house in the background, a smile on his face as you beamed brightly at the camera and squinted at the sun.

“I used to record and photograph everything, you know. I loved it, keeping a hold of my memories and all the moments that mattered, but for the last few years, there hasn’t been anything worth remembering, so I stopped.” It was a heavy confession, and you weren’t too sure what he was expecting from you, whether he was looking for comfort, or simply to get something off of his chest, but heat crawled up his face and made his cheeks tint pink as he looked at you, waiting for a response.

Instead, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pulling him into you as his arms hung at his sides, your bodies pressed together in a hug, and you felt the way he stiffened underneath you, you laughed muffled as your shoulder pressed into his chest. It took him a minute to respond before his arms were wrapping around you lightly, holding you in return as his cheek pressed into your hair, and then, he was squeezing you like his life depended on it.

Only for a second, but he let his walls down, and then he was letting you go, breath rushing back into your lungs from where it had been squeezed from you, and his face was even redder than it had been, eyes shining a little, but he didn’t have his defensive stance or aggressive expression. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed relaxed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mitch.” You hooked your arm through his, immediately soothing the tension building by asking if he wanted to stop by the patisserie shop you’d passed by on your way over here, getting a whole boxful to take with you in the car to snack on as you drove across the country to your next state.

You visited the ‘Marie Laveau: House of Voodoo’, before moving on to taking a wander around the St. Louis Cemetery to look at the crypts, before going for your lunch. It had consisted of thrilled discussions about everything you had done, comparing and swapping photos as you ate, and talking about the bits that you’d personally found the most enjoying. It wasn’t just the time in New Orleans that you discussed, but you managed to force him to open up about the rest of the trip you’d taken so far, the things he had fun doing even if he hadn't been willing to admit it at the time.

With full stomachs and smiling faces, you’d piled back into the car for the first time in days, upon making the walk back to the hotel parking lot. It was almost strange, having spent so much time on your feet and using the vehicle as little as possible, opting for you to drive the small distance down to the Buckner Mansion, the final location used as you drove along, through the Warehouse District and down to the Garden District, mitch taking pictures out of the windows as you went.

After his confession, which neither of you had risked to speak of again, he seemed like he was finally accepting that it was okay for him to live his life, and to admit that he was having fun, actually wanting to take photos and record the sights he was seeing, to relive them once you’d left and gone home.

You couldn’t go inside, but you could walk around the garden, peering inside as you leaned dup to the windows, and taking pictures on the steps up to the front door, talking about all the scenes that you could specifically pinpoint, and making the most of it, before having to leave as the lower light began to fade and the night came in, ushering out the warmer temperatures as a cool night breeze came in.

You flipped a coin, deciding who would do the first half of the journey, Mitch calling heads as it came spinning back down towards your hand, and that side had been the one facing upwards at you both when you’d both studied it, the man cheering to himself, even though you insisted it wasn’t much of a prize to have to drive for several hours in the dark when he’d rather be sleeping, but he was just happy to have won something.

Houston was your next destination, hoping to reach it by the time the morning rolled around, the shift between you both in New Orleans only making you happier about the rest of your journey to come.

[stay-mon-army]

The Soccer Incident

Warnings: A couple swears

Word Count: 2,534 words

Pairing: Junhoe x female!reader

Koo Junhoe was a contradiction. He was an anomaly in the usual order of things, and everyone seemed to love him for it. He was one of the most popular people in his university because he didn’t quite fit into any one category. He was a physical education major, he was the star player on the lacrosse team, the most sought after male player in the intramural soccer club on campus, he was arguably the most attractive jock in the whole school, and he was the reason there was a Jiu Jitsu club on campus. You would think hearing all of these accomplishments that he was a total meat head jock- there’s no way any man this invested in physical activity could ever be interested in more stationary, softer intellects.

However, Junhoe was also a creative writing minor. He was a part of a small writers group that he had compiled of poetry writers (like him) and fiction writers (a passion he deeply admires but didn’t have the same calling for). He had a few poems published in the school’s English journal, and was never caught without his leather bound notebook for his poetry.

Junhoe was one of the most versatile students in his university- but this never seemed to cross Junhoe’s mind. He didn’t see any reason why people would expect anything else from him. Why were people always surprised when they learned that the star lacrosse player was also a poet? Why were his friends in Jiu Jitsu club always laughing when they saw him scribbling away in his journal before meeting started instead of stretching like the rest of them?

Not everyone judged Junhoe so harshly, and there’s no way he could miss the way girls watched him when he walked around campus. Like he could ever be oblivious when the girls in his writing group created love interests that could almost be his doppelganger. Junhoe’s gay-dar was also almost flawless- it wasn’t just the girls that gave him heart eyes in passing.

However, there was one girl that totally ignored Junhoe— (Y/N) was the conundrum that Junhoe couldn’t figure out. He knew she liked boys- he’d seen her at parties with boyfriends, but she didn’t seem to notice him at all. He’d only tried to talk to her once, and she’d been kind, but she’d been late to class and had to rush off. Of course, it was just Junhoe’s luck that the only girl that Junhoe had eyes for was also the one who looked right through him.

He didn’t know much about her— it wasn’t like he was some stalker. He did know, however, that she was also a creative writing minor and was a junior- just like Junhoe. They had previously been in two classes together, which was how she had managed to catch his eye. She would come to class either dressed to the nines- perfectly designed outfits that matched all the way to the jewelry- or looking like she’d just rolled out of bed- her hair in a messy bun, a pair of sweats baggy and hanging from her waist haphazardly. To him, she always looked beautiful.

The thing that really won his heart, though, wasn’t her look or their similarities; it was the way that she always gave him blunt, brutally honest feedback on his pieces. Most of their others in his creative writing classes either don’t know enough to give good feedback, or were so infatuated with him that they gave nothing but blind praise for everything he wrote. (Y/N) was the only person except the Professor who could give advice that Junhoe could use— ideas that sparked Junhoe’s mind to make even better, deeper poems that expressed exactly what he meant.

Her straightforward nature had won him over, but was also the thing that stopped him from shooting his shot. Nothing scared him quite like the idea of being rejected by her— he could imagine it now and it gave him chills. His mind paints the picture without his consent; asking her out the next time they pass, her blank face staring before it morphs into one of pity, her soft voice explaining she’s not interested, her turning away— scurrying off before he can make it more awkward.

No, he’s perfectly fine admiring from afar. It hurt less; he’d rather her not know he exists than to be another weird boy hitting on a classmate he barely knows.

Fate seemed to have other plans for Junhoe, however. Or, more accurately, his best friend, who happens to run the intramural club. He had shown up slightly early for the club meeting that day and was surprised to see Donghyuk with (Y/N) and her best friend, (Y/BF/N), who was the best female player on the intramural team. He really was contemplating running in the opposite direction as quickly as he could, but he was a second too slow.

“Yo, Jun, come here!” Donghyuk waves him over, a wide grin on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing to the poor man.

With a deep breath and a lot of internal cursing of Donghyuk’s existence, he slowly jogged towards the trio.

“Dong, what’s up, man?” Junhoe had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, or why he suddenly sounded like some of the more asshole boys in his sports classes, but he was too focused on remembering to breathe and not trip to care much. Donghyuk’s eyebrows bounce at the greeting, obviously making the same judgement that Junhoe did, before nodding at him, playing it off.

“You know (Y/B/F/N),” Donghyuk gestures to the two women beside him. “This is her best friend, (Y/N). She’s going to take up Miyoung’s spot while her wrist heals.”

Junhoe nods at (Y/B/F/N), who smiles at him. He doesn’t know where he gains the confidence, but he looks directly at you and says, “Don’t we have a creative writing class together?” The automatic look of confusion makes Junhoe’s heart freeze, then instantly knock impossibly fast against his rib cage.

But then your eyes burst with realization, a huge grin splitting your face. “You mean Dr. Scott’s class? God, I’m barely alive for that class; how are you awake enough that early to know the other kids in that class?” You were laughing with him— though it took him a second to laugh along because wow you were having a conversation.

“I just really like the class— I zone out in most other classes.” It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t point out you were his favorite part of the class. All his other writing classes over the semesters without you had been almost torture with all the fawning, ass-kissing girls.

“Yeah, Jun is actually a pretty shit student because he’d rather write poems and join every sports club on campus than do his damn homework.” Donghyuk nudges Junhoe, laughing as Junhoe balks at his words.

“Well his poems are good so it must pay off a little! I’ll be the judge today if the same can be said about his sport skills.” You chuckle, and try to ignore the look that (Y/B/F/N) is shooting you that Junhoe thankfully doesn’t catch.

Junhoe is too busy having to physically restrain himself from fawning over your praise. Luckily your friend jumped in just before he could combust with the effort.

“We should go get ready. Let’s go stretch under the shade over there, (Y/N)!” She loops her arm around your bicep, lightly tugging you away from the boys. You wave at them, looking simultaneously absolutely adorable and like you were afraid your friend would kill you when you reached the aforementioned shade.

When you finally turned to look at (Y/B/F/N), Donghyuk whacks Junhoe’s bicep hard, making him wince and rub the abused spot. “Make a move already, idiot. Are you blind, or just stupid? Did someone put you in a particularly tight chokehold recently?”

“Wh-what?” Well that told Donghyuk all he needed to know and he sighed as he rubbed his face.

“She likes you too, dipshit. Just ask her out already.” Junhoe stared at his best friend for a solid minute before he burst out laughing.

His eyes welled with tears as he gasped around peals of laughter, holding his ribs as his sides spasmed from the force of his laughter. He couldn’t believe Donghyuk had said that when he’d just done so much to try not to seem like a crazy person.

“You’re hopeless, I swear.” Donghyuk shakes his head, leaving Junhoe’s still cackling figure to go greet a couple other students in the club who had arrived.

Although Junhoe is able to physically calm himself down and begin to stretch for the game, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Donghyuk’s words, and he repeatedly had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder at you to see if you were looking at him too. Finally Donghyuk called everyone to the side of the field to split into teams.

Just Junhoe’s luck that he was on the opposite team as you. He had wanted to work with you to win— the idea of you two playing soccer together and beating the other team made his heart race in a way that confused him. It was just a little passing crush on you, why was he so invested in doing things with you?

Get yourself together, Junhoe, and get your ass out there.

He took a deep breath and huddled up with his team, splitting up positions and delegating who would play when, since there were so many members on both teams that they would change out players. Junhoe was to be the first member in the goal, which he wasn’t ecstatic about, but he accepted it with a grin. He could play any position just as well as the next person, so he knew he could keep the goal safe from the other team. He really would’ve preferred to be out on the field to show off his skills though—especially with you out there. You had pulled your hair from your face and you had shed the light jacket you had on previously to show off a band t-shirt, a group he absolutely adored to listen to while writing that he never would have expected you to like as well.

As he took his place in the goal at their end of the field, he watched you stand next to your friend, laughing at something she said, pushing her lightly. He couldn’t help but smile wide at how happy you looked—totally at ease despite the fact you were about to play soccer with a group that you barely knew.

Donghyuk shouted out a “start game” from his position on the sidelines (he was sitting out this first half, but he would later take Junhoe’s position, as he preferred to stay on the side, watching the action instead of running around). Junhoe’s team was a surprisingly good mixture of members; while not the best players, they seemed to work together beautifully today, and Junhoe’s job was mind-numbingly easy.

The ball almost never came to their side of the field, except for a handful of close calls that Junhoe quickly dispatched with calculated ease. His team was winning 3-0 with only about 10 minutes left for this half before they switched out the members. Hearing this minute warning seemed to light a newfound fire under your ass, however, and you suddenly seemed to learn exactly how to play soccer like a pro. Your goalkeeper had kicked the ball at you after saving it from another goal. Seemingly in a matter of seconds you were one with the soccer ball as you effortlessly handled it all the way across the field to his goal until you were only a few feet from him. You made eye contact and he could see the fire and drive in your eyes for a goal, and he made a conscious decision in that second to let you make the goal. He would let the ball through—what was one small goal anyway, and it was only an intramural game.

However, his plans changed quickly when you punted the ball—hard. Instead of going into the goal cleanly, like he was expecting, it went straight for his forehead, knocking his head back with a sharp thwack sound. He fell to the ground with a harsh groan, his hands coming up to rest on his face as the world spun and warped, pain spreading across his whole head. He lay on his back, cradling his head in his hands, as he grunted out swears that would make his mother smack him harder than the soccer ball had.

“Oh my god, are you alright? Jesus, I’m so so sorry.” Your voice was high and anxious, and racing closer to him. He moved his hands and opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight to see your face looking down at him. You were sweaty from all the running, and your hair was starting to fall back into your face, but he still couldn’t help smiling.

“God, you’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He didn’t know what that ball did to his head, but he didn’t really mind the sudden courage it gave him.

Your face dropped into shock before you burst out into glorious laughter, your face lighting up into the widest and most adorable smile Junhoe had ever seen.

“You’re crazy, Junhoe.” You brush a strand on his hair from his face before pressing a hand softly to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch softly. “No, no, don’t close your eyes. We don’t know if you have a concussion yet.”

His eyes flutter open and look at you with soft eyes. He gathers the last bit of pain-drunk courage to blurt out, “Go on a date with me?”

You nod, looking down at his splayed figure. “It is the least I can do after almost taking your head off with a soccer ball.”

“Good kick, by the way.”

You both laugh at that as you stand, slowly taking his hands and helping him to his feet as well. He winces and places the heel of his hand between his eyebrows, where the most pain is currently radiating.

“Let’s get you an icepack.” You chuckle, putting his arm around your shoulder and walking him towards the nurse’s office. Donghyuk didn’t seem to even ask if Junhoe was alright, he was well aware that he would be fine with some rest and ice. Instead, he just jumped into his place with an accomplished grin on his face, starting the game right back up.

You didn’t need to help Junhoe all the way to the nurse, or stay with him for the 20 minutes he sat there with an icepack to his forehead, but the conversation you had was funny and sweet. And truth be told, you had noticed Junhoe many times in the past and had been drawn to him. You were more than happy for any excuse to interact with him outside of class. And thanks to this upcoming date, you would finally get the chance to get to know him that much better.

[pretoriafics]

Russian Roulette - Pt. 5

In this series, you will find: Alternative Universe, Soulmate plot, Angst, Fluff. n this chapter, you will find: You and Derek think that you got a clue about the alpha, and you'll go investigate. Word count: 1.701 Pairings: Reader x Platonic!Stiles; Reader x Derek Original characters of this chapter: None. Warnings: English is not my main language <3 Yeah, it was based on Russian Roulette by Rihanna Russian Roulette series: Chapter Four | Chapter Six RUSSIAN ROULETTE MASTERLIST TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

It wasn't so hard to explain what happened in the school. Actually, Scott made all the work telling that Derek was trying to kill all of you. You said to the authorities that you received a message from Scott and, thinking that he had some kind of problem, you went there to help. You haven't said you saw Derek or something because you would feel awful to incriminate an innocent. So, you just simply said that you did not see anything and took the kids out of school. Sebastian was so proud of you that he said to everyone that the girl who took the teenagers out of school was his Au Pair.

While you're doing the children's laundry, you have begun to think about the message you had received yesterday, falsely attributed to Scott and who took you to school. Well, you could track the origin of the messages and find out something that could help you to find the Alpha. Yeah, it could work!

You call Stiles, to talk about your idea, and then, you go to his house.

"How do you learned to track this?"

Stiles was looking at you, curious, while you enter his house. You gave him a smile.

"I had a hacker phase. But don't worry, I can't do more than this and change another's person Facebook password."

You go upstairs and Stiles opens his bedroom door. Both of you almost had a heart attack when you saw Derek there. You curse in your main language, with your hand in your chest.

"You scared me!"

Stiles put his hands up looking at Derek.

"Calm down, ok, she knows the truth."

Hale's green eyes got narrow, and he gave a step forward to Stiles's direction. He wasn't happy at all.

"What the hell you think you're doing, Stiles?! We can't put one more person into all that shit!"

It was your turn to gave a step forward to Derek and Stiles's direction. Your gaze meets Derek's eyes.

"Calm down, Stiles and Scott didn't tell me anything. I'd found out by myself."

Derek analyzes you. You weren't lying. He put his guard down and nod with his head, and you put yourself in front of Stiles's laptop. Stiles and Derek approach you, looking at the laptop's screen.

"Okay, Derek, I'll tell you my idea: We will track the origin of the messages that the kids and I had received to get to the school. I think it could give us a clue about the Alpha."

Hale arch his eyebrows, looking at you. You were smart.

"Sounds good." He said, and you give him a soft smile.

You start to push a few buttons on the laptop. A few minutes later, the localization was on the screen: It came from the Hospital, and who sent the messages was Melissa McCall.

"It can't be right." Said Stiles, with his hand on his head. He was scared "We should tell Scott?"

"Not yet." You heard Derek's voice "We need to investigate it first."

Stiles nods.

"Okay, we'll go now?"

You got up from the chair, your eyes narrowed.

"We? Oh, no, no." You approach Stiles and cross your arms "You'll go to the lacrosse game, and be a common teenager. I'll solve this."

"But you-"

"Stiles. No."

"Damn!"

"But you can't go by yourself." You heard Derek said, looking at you.

"Okay, so..." You took your phone from Stiles's desk and look at Hale "I'll send you a message, and we'll go together."

"Oh, look! The repair of your car is great! I can't even notice that I hit it."

It was the first thing you notice when you saw Derek's car. You sit in the passenger seat, and he looks at you.

"It wasn't that bad." He turns the car on and, now, you are going to the Hospital "How do you found out about... everything?"

You think it's better to hide some details of the story, at least until you find out about your marks and about the ginger lady. That's the reason you replies:

"It was because of that day in the woods. I thought it was just a nightmare, but then I analyzed it. So I met a guy, who taught me a few things."

"What guy? Chris Argent?"

He glares at you with his eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious about you.

"No. Haytham Conwell. He said to me that I need to stay away from you and Scott, and said that I can't trust you."

Despite your denial, Derek's still suspicious about you. His serious face is focused on the road.

"Maybe he's right."

"I don't think so."

He arches his eyebrows.

"Why not?"

"Because you've saved my life. I'm not the kind of person who forgets people who help me. So... Thank you. I owe you one."

You had clearly taken him by surprise. His body became less tense, and his expression softened.

"Stiles was close to me when you call him." He said, with his guard down at least a little. "We had just caught Scott, he was out of control that night because of the full moon. But when he listened to your voice... He just runs to help you. Those kids love you."

"I know." You gave him a soft smile "I love them too. It's an odd part of being Au Pair, you know? You just have your maternal instincts higher to another level, and then the kids become just like they are your own."

It was Derek's turn to let escape a soft smile. Since you entered Stiles's bedroom, Derek was watching your heartbeats, to make sure you aren't a liar. But you're not. You're just... too good for this wild supernatural world.

Derek parks his car in front of the hospital. You let out a long sigh.

"Okay," You said, looking at his green eyes "I'll come in. I'll call you if I found something."

He nods positively with his head for you, and you go out of the car. Derek had sent to you a few information before you got into his car, like the name of the nurse of his uncle and where are his bedroom. You enter the hospital with all that info in mind, and you go directly to Peter's bedroom. But he isn't there. That's the time you take your phone and call Derek.

"Uh, I'm sure I'm in the correct bedroom, and there's no one here."

"Damn, get out, he's the Alpha!"

Crap.

"You shouldn't be here."

You look to your right and see the nurse.

"Oh, there you are! You give me a lot of troubles with that bullet, you know?"

You look to your left and there he is, Peter Hale, with part of his face burnt.

"I would love to give you more problems than it."

"You know what? I think you're pretty brave for a human. I mean, I could have killed you that night in the woods but I just wanted to play a little."

Derek appears, running and putting himself in front of you.

"(Y/N), get out."

Peter and Derek roared to each other, and the nurse behind you took a dagger out of her clothes. Then, a shiver spread all over your body with a cold feeling. What was that sensation?

Derek attacks Peter, and the nurse tries to hit you with the dagger. Surprisingly, you deflect and hold his wrist, hitting her in the face with your elbow. The nurse staggered back with your hit, and you don't waste the opportunity: You hit her in the face with your right punch, and then you did the same with your left punch. As a final hit, you kick her chest and she fell back. His head hit's a glass table, and she stays unconscious.

You look at your hands, scared. You don't know how to fight like that. What the hell has happened?

The sound of a body falling on the floor push you off your own thoughts. When you turn back, you see that Peter had thrown Derek on the floor. He's bleeding. Instinctively, you push your gun and shoot at Peter. Your shoots didn't hit him, and he catches you by your neck, raising you from the floor.

"There's nothing more dangerous than a brave dumb, don't you think?"

He throws you against the wall, and you fell to the floor. There, while you try to compose yourself, you see Peter walking in Derek's direction.

"I didn't know what I was doing when I killed Laura, I'd lost control! Look, we're a family. We don't need to fight. Think about it."

Peter walks to his nurse and takes her in his arms. He looks at you.

"See you soon, (Y/N)."

After Peter leaves, you stood up and walk to Derek. He has stood up already and has blood on his shirt. He was hurt.

"Do you will heal?" You ask him, looking at the huge cut on his belly.

"Yeah, but slowly because it was made by an Alpha."

"We better take care of it, so. I have some first aid at home. I'll hide you in my bedroom, so, please, you need to stay quiet because I don't wanna be fired."

Derek arch his eyebrows. He wasn't used to this kind of thing.

"I'm used to take care of myself."

"But you don't have to do this all the time, okay? Let me take care of it. Don't worry. I owe you one, remember?"

The smile you gave him just throw away every sort of excuse and argument he could have to say to you. You turn yourself and, while you were walking, you said:

"I'll drive!"

And what choices did he have? He just follows you and listening to your heartbeat, trying to catch all kinds of lies. But he can't detect anything. Actually, he hasn't any reason to get suspicious about you, but life has taught him that he needs to be careful with people. But based on all of the things he saw and know about you, who was just a few ones, you are just a common woman.

Okay, he would give you a chance to gain his trust.

[riley-phoenix]

Pairing: Malia X Reader(Gender not specified) ... eventually

Canon: Supernatural: Season 8 / Teen Wolf: Season 1

Content: murder (mentioned) , angst, fluff, smut (light)

Author's Note: -

Chapter Summary: On the night Malia enlists your help to break the ice with her estranged adoptive father, Scott revelas he was bitten the night you went into the woods.

Chapter 5: Meeting Her Parents

You walk into your house stubbornly, Slamming the door shut behind you. Sam, Dean and Cas ;shocked by the sudden sound, tilt their heads in your direction, but say nothing. With your formerly suppressed emotions now pulsing through you, you walk angrily up the staircase. "You were right!" You scream at Dean, having recently realised your feelings for Malia; and that Dean's assumptions were more than just accusations.

Dean smirks slightly, as Sam rolls his eyes, throwing Dean five bucks. Dean walks up the stairs slowly, stopping at your door and trying to find the right words before knocking. "Hey, Kid, wanna talk about it?".

He is answered only by an impending silence

"OK, well, I'm still gonna be 'round for a while if you do, and if I'm not, you can call me. You can talk to me kid, you know that, right?".

Again he is left unanswered. Dean backs away from the door, not wanting to push any boundaries and allowing you your personal space.

The next day you drive into school, with anything but a clear mind. You've got the dinner with Malia tonight, which is now infinitely more complicated than it was a day ago, Scott and Stiles want to catch up for the first time since the incident in the woods, and you're still keeping your supernatural identify a secret. As you step out of the car you notice Scott and Stiles waiting for you at the main entrance of the school. "'Sup" you say as you approach them. "*Your name* ,Check this out" , Scott says as he lifts up his shirt and revelas a bandaged scar. "The hell did you get that?" You ask. Stiles jumps in, "When I got caught by my dad and you ran off into the woods, Scott went Looking for the body and got bit by something". Your gaze shifts from Stiles to the consealed scar on Scott's chest. "Yeah, that's quite something". You say worryingly. Scott speaks again, "And check this out, My asthma is gone". Your heart begins to best faster as you consider the possibilities. "...Gone?" You ask concerned. "Completely", Scott replies. A very serious expression falls over your face as you ask Scott a question. "Scott... What bit you?" "I'm not sure, it was dark...but I think it was a wolf". He replies. "There's no wolves in California", Stiles replies. "Yea...but apparently, there are werewolves" you think in your head. "Hey, you guys have Lacrosse practice in 4th period right?" You say, now speaking aloud. "Yeah", Stiles answers. "OK, I have soccer in the 3rd and a free in the 4th, I'll be there".

During soccer practice you're doing shooting drills when you steal a glance at the stands, shocked to see a familiar face in the third row. Malia watches, and puts on her seductive yet sweet smile, while throwing you a thumbs up for support. You stand at the halfway line of the pitch, heart rate rising intensely every second. Your job is to make a long ball from the halfway line to the striker just outside the penalty box...but you have something else In mind. "Dont do it *your name*, dont use your powers for your own selfish needs". You think to yourself. Your conscience swings back and forth trying to weigh the decisions. Suddenly someone calls out to you: "Winchester, make the pass". You take one last look back at Malia and see her cheering for you. "Ughhh, screw it" you say.

From the halfway line, you give the ball a powerful yet skillful kick, sending it rising over the rest of the field, and curling down perfectly into the back of the goalkeepers net. So fast, no one sees it coming, and so hard, it breaks the supports behind the goal net.

The stands, the players and Coach Finstock stay dead silent for 10 seconds, before erupting into an ear shattering round of applause and screams. Everyone in the Bleachers rises from their seat with their jaw hanging, while Malia comes running to you, and wraps you in a warm hug.

"HO...LY...SHIT!" ,She excliams

Coach Finstock looks at you with a determined look on his face. "You, what's your name?" He says, calling you over. "Winchester" you say as you approach him. "Winchester, it takes guts to shoot from 60 yards, but to score from there?, Kid, you just earned yourself a place in the starting 11 in next week's game". He replies. You stand infront of him in shock, as the bell rings to signal the end of the period, you head to the Lacrosse field to see if your assumption about Scott was correct. Malia catches up with you on the way. "Wow...hey...that goal was... amazing" she says, clearly impressed. You smirk, "Thanks" you say in reply, "I'll see you at dinner tonight". As the words leave your mouth you see a look of worry on Malia's face. "Hey, its gonna be alright" you say as you put a comforting hand on her shoulder. You say your goodbyes and you head to the Lacrosse field...in time to see Scott fake turn 2 players, do a flip over the third and send the ball flying past the keeper, giving him no chance. "Can you believe it, I don't know how he's been training but I've gotta try that", Stiles says in awe of Scott's newfound 'talent' . Scott was terrible at lacrosse yesterday, there's no way he could play like this today, unless...You stand Shellshocked as you come to the realisation

--Scott's been bitten by a werewolf--

But he doesn't know it. "Hes Making Jackson so jealous, IM LOVING IT". Stiles says excitedly. "I'm still kinda new here Stiles" you say. "Right, Jackson Whittemore is dating Lydia Martin, the hottest girl in school -so I kinda hate him- also he makes a point of driving a Porsche and is...well was, the best on the lacrosse team." You notice the angry young man on the pitch, glaring daggers into Scott and can only assume He's the person Stiles is describing.

After school, you demand Scott take you to the exact place he was bitten. As the three of you trudge through the woods, a tall, stern looking man yells at you "Hey! This is private property!" He says. You're about to respond with something witty and sarcastic until you look at is face and recognise him. "Yeah, uhhhh, sorry...we were just leaving". You tug your friends arms and signal for them to move. Fast.

"hey, what was that all about?" Scott asks. "That was Derek Hale" you say softly, turning your head to make sure you weren't being followed. The whole town knew Derek as a mysterious man who lived in an old burned down house, they thought he was psycho, you knew him as the only living member of one of the oldest werewolf families in California, and the Hale pack are not to be taken lightly. "As in creepy-psycho-guy Derek Hale"? Stiles asks. "Yeah, that's why we're leaving". You answer. "But that's right around where I was bitten Scott says". "Let's just come back here tonight" Stiles suggests. "No!" You say assertively. "Firstly, I have something important to take care of tonight , and secondly, this guys dangerous. Promise me you'll stay away". "Fine, fine, we'll stay away" Stiles Says. "I should head home, I scored a date with Allison Argent.", Scott adds. They get into Stiles' Jeep while you drive home in your car.

You head home, visibly tired, hoping to grab a few hours of sleep before the dinner with Malia tonight. As you head inside, you greet Sam. Dean walks in nonchalantly. "Well... Scott's a werewolf". You blurt out. Dean chokes on his beer, visibly taken back. "How the hell did that happen?" He says, wiping his mouth.

"OK, so the night we went into the woods we got seperated, he got bitten then. He thinks it was just a wolf, or a mountain lion. He doesn't know where all this superspeed and strength is coming from."

"Well, that's not good, tomorrow's a full moon, did he mention anything else?". Dean asks. "Nah, he didn't say much. I just watched him during Lacrosse and saw his powers go crazy. The only plans he mentioned was a date with ;uhhhh , Allison Argent". You answer

"ARGENT!?" ,Sam and Dean both exclaim

"Yeah, why, what's wrong?" You say, very confused. "The Argents are one of the oldest werewolf hunters in America. Gerard Argent went on a hunt with dad a long time ago when a case pulled him all the way out to California." Dean explains. Terror washes over you as you take in the information. "Son of a Bitch". You say worryingly. "So there's a full moon coming up tomorrow and Scott's In bed with a hunter's daughter?, And I thought I was coming to Beacon Hills to escape the Supernatural."

"What are the risks?" You ask in anticipation. "Well, just like the bite, if it doesn't turn you it kills you, other than that I'd say the biggest risk is Argent finding out before we cure him",Dean adds. You ponder for a moment. "This could kill him...but If Argent finds out he'll do it first... You guys get the other ingredients, I'll handle the blood." "How're you gonna get the blood of the sire if you don't know who it is that turned him?" Sam asks. "...I have my suspicions" you say in response.

Dean thinks for a moment. "There is something we could try, there's a 'werewolf cure'", we'd need a few general ingredients, the tricky one is 'the living blood of the sire'"

You manage to get a few hours of sleep before getting ready for Malia's dinner. You're putting on your leather jacket as Dean walks shyly into the room. "Hey kiddo, I got ya' something". Dean pulls out a garment bag with a lavish and extravegent outfit and shows it to you. You smirk and turn in his direction, "its just dinner, we're not acting in a James Bond movie". "Yeah but it could be romantic" he says. "Yeah, right after we tell her dad about the supernatural and that his daughter is the reason his other daughter and wife are dead". You say in response. "...so that's a 'yes'?" Dean asks. You sigh, "I appreciate the thought Dean",you say before patting him on the shoulder and heading out.

When you arrive ,you and Malia begin preparing dinner(with you taking the lead because she's not good in the kitchen) .As you pull the roast out of the oven you notice she's having trouble 'chopping the vegetables', really, she's just throwing the knife down aimlessly. "Ok, ok slow down, here let me help you." You stand behind Malia, taking her right hand in yours, then holding a carrot with your left hand. "You're gonna hold it like this". You say before adjusting the angle for her. "Then you just cut it". You say, Taking her hand in yours, making thin slices with every swift motion. Soon you've done all the vegetables. "Malia turns to look at you "Thank you" she says, her breath is sweet, and delicate and you now notice how close her lips are to yours, your hands still lingering near her hips. "Malia, I--"

you're cut off by the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. "That's my dad" she says. Later, Malia is bringing the dishes to the table as you make small talk with her dad, who is very engrossed in a soccer game. He sets his head back and moans as the other team scores. "Well that's just silly, they're playing a back 3 against a team that's using they're wing backs to push forward, they can't handle that much pressure." You say thoughtlessly. Mr. Tate looks up at you in shock. "You...you know alot about soccer?" ."I'm on the Team at school" you say Without trying to seem too concerned about his reaction. "So what do you think they should be doing?" He asks, clearly intrigued. "Well, they obviously need a solid defence more than they need a creative midfield. So a midfielder will probably have to be substituted for a defender. They're gonna have to do it twice 'cuz the other team's playing a back 4; so 2 strikers aren't enough. I'd say they'd stand a chance if they switched from a 3-5-2 to a 4-3-3 ;but the coach is stubborn." He looks at you in an approving way, "that's a hell of a tactical mind kid, you should remember this: college ain't the only way to be successful in life." ,"Thanks Mr. Tate" you say, blushing. "Please; call me Henry". He responds.

About 15 minutes into dinner, Malia is struggling to bring up the topic, Henry is still confused about how is daughter who was presumed dead in a car crash years ago, was alive, but that was covered up by how grateful he was to have her back.

Your phone buzzes, then again, then again, then you recieve a phone call, "excuse me", you say politely, before heading outside.

"What the hell Stiles!? I told you I was busy tonight".

"I know, I know I'm sorry, but remember how I said we wouldn't go back to the Hale residence?".

"Yeahhh?".

"Well...we sorta went back".

"STILES!, What the HELL!? where are you now!?".

"It's OK, were at Scott's place now and we're safe".

"Aggghhh, thank God, so what'd you find?".

"We found ALOT. plus, we did some research, and when you connect the dots it's very intriguing, can we talk?".

"It's late... And we have alot to discuss and There's someone I want you two to meet, tomorrow, my place?".

"Cool, see you there".

You hang up the phone and head back inside to find Malia trying to explain everything to her dad in one quick, breathless sentence, leaving Jasper traumatized. "--and there's vampires,they're real too and on a full moon, we go crazy, and that's what happened on the night of the accident--" Henry cuts Malia off as he sees you enter. "Please forgive my daughter, she seems to be trying to make sense of all this by coming up with some ... ridiculous story that feels like it's from a teen drama". "Listen to her" you say reassuringly. Henry seems curious. "It's real ,the supernatural. All of it...ill give you guys some space." You add.

You wait in Malia's room for another hour, when you notice Henry's car pulling out of the driveway, followed by Malia walking in with swelling eyes. "Hey, how did it go" you ask. "TERRIBLE", She says, he can't even look at me. She responds, with a crack in her voice. "I'm sorry...that must be so hard for you". You give Malia a shoulder to cry on and offer her comfort. After a while you attempt to break the silence. "You know, I'm sure he was--"

"he was gonna tell me I'm adopted". Your heart sinks as you take in her words. "I found the papers in his room, he had everything laid out, there's no trace of my real parents or who put me up ...but he wanted to tell me tonight". You can't find the words to sympathize to her, instead you reach out and embrace her in a heartfelt hug. "I'm sorry it was so hard to tell you, I didn't think you'd understand.", Malia says, with a cracking voice and tears falling from her face. You let out a small chuckle in response: "Malia, I'm adopted" you respond. "Oh... I uh, I didn't know, how did they tell you?" She asks. "I have two dads" you say jokingly. She laughs, and you're happy to make her feel better. "Well technically Cas is genderfluid but we never really addressed that, and then there's the whole thing--" you cut yourself off, realising you've trailed off. "Look, this is scary for you both, but he doesn't blame you for what happened that night, so you shouldn't either okay?"you say, bringing the focus back to Malia. "Hey, *your name* I'm sure my dad will come around eventually, but tonight--"

"of course you can sleep over", you say,"you didn't even have to ask". Malia cleans her face and you drive her to your place. You stay quiet in the car for a few minutes. "What are you nervous about me meeting your family now", she says jokingly. "Well my dad's really embarrassing, Cas is genderfluid and we haven't actually discussed how were gonna introduce him to new people; and my uncle is freakishly tall." You say worryingly, not entirely sure how she'll respond. Malia takes in your words, "I don't judge, I don't Judge and ....I ...dont judge?, I wasn't really sure how to respond to that last one. Just remember I'm a werecoyote who murdered her own family, I won't judge." She reassures you that she's not getting scared off and you enter the house and introduce her to Sam and Dean. Dean teases you a little bit by smiling and nudging your leg. Cas approaches Malia and begins to introduce himself, "Hello , I am Castiel, ange--"

Hastily you interrupt the sentence and pull Cas into the kitchen while Sam and Dean distract Malia. "Cas, she knows about the Supernatural but not about the Super-super natural, you can't just drop the angels-demons-Satan bombshell on her ,just introduce yourself like we rehearsed and try to make it believable. Cas approaches Malia again, very professionally, "Hello I am Castiel, I identify as genderfluid but you may also refer to me using he/him pronouns. I am making Pie." He says in his awkward, robotic voice. You facepalm at his attempt to socialize. surprisingly you escaped alive, and headed to sleep.

"Hey how come you're sleeping on your couch?" Malia asks inquisitively. You're about to answer when you realise Malia spent half her life a wild animal, she hasn't conformed to the 'two people who aren't sleeping together don't sleep. Together.' Ideology. "Is it cool if I sleep on the bed?" You ask nervously. "Yeah of course, its your bed" she says nonchalantly.

You toss and turn a little bit trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. "You okay?" She asks in an amused tone. "Yeah, just...not used to sharing the bed" you respond. You try for a little while longer before Malia suggests something, "hold on". Malia turns you so that your back is facing her , she places her hands around your waist and nuzzles her face against the back of your neck.

"Is this fine?" She asks.

"Yeah, this is perfect"

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